The Hand Dealt
by not paranoid enough
Summary: Just before boarding the ship to escape Naboo, Qui-Gon is injured. Now, it's Obi-Wan who has to find the hyperspace generator, Obi-Wan who meets Anakin—and that changes everything. AU.
1. Prologue

**The Hand Dealt**

Summary: Just before boarding the ship to escape Naboo, Qui-Gon is injured. Now, it's Obi-Wan who has to find the hyperspace generator, Obi-Wan who meets Anakin—and the new hand changes things. AU.

And from there, everything is different.

Warning: This starts as a TPM re-write. I have no idea where it's going to end up :D (enjoy!)

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**_"I feel as if my whole life has been nothing but a dismal play, presented for someone else's amusement, and that the playwright who invented my cruel twist of fate is somewhere far above me, laughing and laughing at his creation." -__Series of Unfortunate Events _**

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**Prologue: A Dismal Opening **

The last Naboo pilot stumbled up the ramp and through the open hatchway into the ship. Flicking his wrist, Obi-Wan deflected another blaster bolt, sending it careening into the droid that had fired the initial shot. It collapsed into a pile of sparking parts. When no blaster fire immediately followed, he scanned the hangar. There weren't any more droids within blaster range, but there were reinforcements pouring in. The Royal Hanger of Naboo was empty and the only he and his master still needed to get aboard the Queen's yacht.

Taking advantage in the resulting lull in blaster fire, Obi-Wan caught his master's eye. Qui-Gon tipped his head in response. Permission granted, Obi-Wan dashed into the ship, knowing that his master would cover his retreat and then follow.

The Jedi Padawan had only just crossed the ship's threshold when a loud thump sounded on the ramp below. The echo of a quick, dull pain jabbed down his training bond before it was tamped back.

Worry splintered through his gut. He spun around to see what had happened to his master. Qui-Gon was collapsed at the base of the ramp, reaching for the ship's struts in order to prop himself upright. Quick as a flash Obi-Wan was sliding back down the ramp towards his master. He sent out a wave through the Force, sending the droids skidding backwards, breaking their formation. He grasped Qui-Gon's arm, levered the tall man upright and he settled his master's arm around his shoulders.

With the help of the Force, he half-dragged, half-carried his very heavy master up to the ship, grateful that Qui-Gon was still awake and coherent—apparently he had not been shot anywhere vital. Their complaints mingled together (Obi-Wan's about tall and heavy masters, and Qui-Gon's about the indignity of being dragged) as they piled into the ship. Obi-Wan slammed a fist on the door closing mechanism.

"Ramp's up! Go!" Obi-Wan shouted down the corridor. He heard his command echoed by various voices deeper inside the ship. As the ramp hissed closed, he saw the battle droids, reinforcements, massing around the cruiser. The pilot's voice hummed over the intercom, telling everyone to prepare themselves for takeoff. He took several deep breaths, thanking the Force he'd gotten his master out of there in time.

The engines below the deck shuddered as the take off sequence neared its end. Pilots and handmaidens scuttled through the narrow corridors, running into each other and skittering around in their haste. The Force swirled with their tension and fear.

Anticipation and adrenaline hummed through Obi-Wan's veins; they had to get into the air before the Federation's ground troops could rally and deploy their artillery.

But there was nothing he could do about that. With effort, he turned his focus onto the moment and directed towards something he could take care of—his master.

The older man was slumped against the wall, eyes shut in either pain or embarrassment. Or both. Surveying his master with a frown, Obi-Wan saw that all of Qui-Gon's weight was on his right side; the tip of his left boot barely grazed the deck, but Obi-Wan couldn't see where he had been shot.

Qui-Gon raised a hand at his apprentice, trying to wave away the younger man's concern. "It's nothing, Obi-Wan. I merely…wrenched my knee."

Obi-Wan barely held back a grin. _So he really was embarrassed_, he thought, relieved that the problem was so minor. Most _Initiates_ were able to avoid wrenching a knee while blocking blaster fire. That such a well respected, celebrated fighter had wrenched his knee while standing still on flat ground blocking the badly aimed shots from _droids_ was mortifying.

_I wonder how much fun Master Windu will have with this one?_ Obi-Wan wondered wickedly.

"Don't you dare tell Mace about this, Padawan!"

"Master, really. You wound me," he responded with every ounce of honesty that he was capable of projecting. "I wouldn't dare tell a Council Member something like this!" _But I would tell your childhood friend_ he mentally qualified. The Padawan had to struggle to keep his anticipation internal—there was no entertainment in the galaxy better than watching Mace Windu and Qui-Gon Jinn bicker like Initiates.

But a wrenched knee wasn't the kind of thing that could be fixed with a bacta patch. It required time and rest—effectively putting his interfering master out of commission for at least the trip back to Coruscant. If they weren't already on their way back, it would have been a big problem.

_It still might be a big problem_, Obi-Wan reminded himself. _We aren't home yet_.

Despite the fact that there was no more pain leaking through the bond, Obi-Wan could see that the corners of his Master's eyes were tight with discomfort.

The cruiser took off, the force made Obi-Wan to stumble slightly into the wall and jar Qui-Gon's injured knee.

Obi-Wan frowned at his master's low hiss of pain. As the ship leveled out, he said, "Master, let's find you a place to sit. You need to get off your knee."

Qui-Gon gave him a stern look, but otherwise ignored his comment. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrow in disapproving response. Qui-Gon responded to his silent challenge by calling on the Force and pushing away from the wall, putting his weight fully and defiantly on his left leg. Obi-Wan's second eyebrow joined the first, this time in shock at his master's foolish pride.

"Master!" He leapt forward and took some of Qui-Gon's weight. He immediately felt the older man sag against him. "You need to sit down!"

"No, Padawan," Qui-Gon put a soft emphasis on the title, knowing Obi-Wan wouldn't argue with him further. "We need to go to the bridge. Let's make sure we survive this blockade run."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, Master."

It was pointless to argue. His master was stubborn. It didn't matter that the two Jedi would be completely useless on the bridge even if they had been perfectly healthy, Qui-Gon Jinn wanted to go to the cockpit and so they would.

The apprentice made no attempt to hide his disapproval, but he did maneuver himself under his tall master's left arm, taking more of the man's weight. Obi-Wan was too short for it to be a particularly comfortable situation for either of them, but for a short hobble to the bridge, it was serviceable.

The corridors were empty by that point, everyone buckled in somewhere for the dash past the blockade. Obi-Wan stretched out with the Force to find the cockpit's location. Fortunately, it was a small ship and wasn't hard to find. With a swish of the Force, the young man swept open the doors to the bridge (ignoring Qui-Gon's half-hearted chiding for using the Force frivolously) and together they entered the small room.

The pilot remained concentrated on his instruments, occasionally shouting into the comm station, but the co-pilot looked up. He was about to order the newcomers out, but Obi-Wan saw the moment the man realized that they were Jedi. He subsided back down, nodded nervously in their direction, and turned his attention back the viewscreen and his panel.

The stars that should have been readily visible now that they were outside of the atmosphere were obscured by the looming blockade. Obi-Wan frowned. The Federation battle ships were strategically laid out to cover the escape vectors. Obi-Wan hoped that the pilots in control of their cruiser were good enough to get them out of the Naboo system's gravity well and into hyperspace. Otherwise, they would either die in the nothingness of space or be captured by a murderous trading conglomerate.

Neither was an attractive prospect.

Then, he breathed out his nerves and plopped his master into the empty navigator's chair. He felt Qui-Gon's protest through the Force, though he neither objected vocally, nor attempted to get up. Obi-Wan counted it as a win.

The battle-ships loomed larger than ever and Obi-Wan braced himself with both the navigation chair and the Force as the small cruiser approached the blockade. A warning shot flashed across the bow.

He _really_ didn't feel like dying on such a minor mission.

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	2. Chapter 1

_**"It's a dangerous business, going out your door. If you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you'll be swept off to." -Bilbo Baggins**_

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**Chapter 1 It's a Dangerous Business, Going out Your Door**

Tatooine hadn't sounded like a bad idea when he'd first mentioned it. It was nearby, isolated, and there was no Trade Federation presence on the planet. It was also a hot spot for spacers, so they were sure to find the part that they needed.

The perfect solution.

But now, Obi-Wan had a feeling that Tatooine was a bad idea. It was too late to tell anyone that, of course. After all, he was standing near the ship's entry ramp, waiting for a crewman to lower it. Turning back now would look ridiculous. Besides that, he was the one who had pointed the planet out. Pride and stubbornness prevented him from voicing his hesitancy without any rational reason for it.

But, he just had that itchy, twitchy feeling at the base of his spine again, the one that always warned him of impending doom. The feeling that Qui-Gon always brushed aside and Yoda frowned over but never explained. The one that was _always_ followed by some kind of dreadfully unpleasant experience for either himself or a close friend.

The one he'd had since the beginning of this blasted mission.

The crewman finished punching in the code and the ramp began its descent. A hot blast of heat barreled in through the slowly lowering ramp, threatening to dry out the young man's eyeballs.

He took a deep relaxing breath, hoping to rid himself of his bad feeling. As a Senior Padawan fast approaching his Trials he had gone on a number of dangerous solo missions before; there was no reason for him to be so anxious about a routine supply run.

_Of course, a lot of things on this mission were supposed to be routine_, he thought_. A routine negotiation. A routine escape. A routine return to Coruscant. _Obi-Wan shook his head.

The pattern was not looking very good for this routine trip for a hyperdrive generator.

Especially while babysitting a fearless R2 unit and an inquisitive Gungan.

Obi-Wan grudgingly admitted that the little droid would probably be very helpful in their search for a functional hyperdrive generator. But the Gungan? He would not be helpful, no matter how much Qui-Gon had argued that the being would "help him blend in." Obi-Wan scoffed at the thought. The creature was going to be such a nuisance that he'd attract the attention of everyone within the settlement's radius. Hearing the being in question make some odd noise behind him, Obi-Wan just shook his head with a mental scowl. It was likely that his master had just wanted to get rid of Jar Jar while he had a bum knee and couldn't hide from the clingy and inquisitive being.

Obi-Wan frowned, realizing that he was being particularly uncharitable. He tried to relax and let go of his tension, knowing he was just being immature.

The ramp landed on the rocky ground below with a dull clang. The tension crept back.

The dry sandy wind that billowed inside sent the crewman standing behind Obi-Wan into a dry coughing fit. Obi-Wan felt the thin sheen of sweat on his palms dry instantly. Steeling himself for the heat, he walked down the ramp and out into the suns where he was physically staggered by the force of their rays. The young man cringed as he felt his fair skin sizzle and begin to burn. He turned towards the town set low on the horizon. Jar Jar shuffled along behind him and the astromech droid whistled merrily, the chirps bouncing off the nearby rocks. Obi-Wan tried not to breathe too deeply; the coarse air grated his lungs worse than the pollution on Coruscant.

Less than fifty meters from the ship, he heard thudding footsteps on the rocky ground and a loud "Wait! Wait!"

Turning around, Obi-Wan found himself facing the Queen's head of security and one of the Queen's youngest handmaidens. They quickly hopped over rocks and made their way towards the small group. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as the two approached.

The Captain responded to the silent prompting. "Her Majesty commands you to take her handmaiden with you." The man's eyes rested somewhere just to the left of Obi-Wan's shoulder; he was uncomfortable about something, though Obi-Wan couldn't pinpoint what was wrong.

So, Obi-Wan turned his attention to the girl, carefully surveying the person the Queen wished to send in to a potentially dangerous situation. Although the handmaiden kept her eyes down, through the Force he could feel her eagerness and curiosity. She was dressed practically and unobtrusively. She had a small blaster hidden under one arm and her weird bun-thing was held up by a thin, antique dagger. He was already lugging an incompetent Gungan into a dangerous and cutthroat town—a girl who was trained to keep her head down and to protect herself and others was liable to be an asset. Obi-Wan saw no reason not to acquiesce to the Queen's request. He gave a short bow to the young handmaiden, who grinned widely and bobbed a quick curtsey in response. Obi-Wan let a small smile dance across his own face in response.

"Thank you, Captain," she said to the security chief. He nodded to her before rapidly retreating to the shade and cooling units of the yacht. Obi-Wan turned back towards the town in the distance. The handmaiden followed his lead, positioning herself on his left side. R2-D2 beeped along at her other side and Jar Jar stumbled along behind them.

"My name is Padme," she said, before they had gone very far. She stuck out her hand.

"Obi-Wan." He grasped hers in a firm handshake.

"Nice to officially meet you, Obi-Wan."

* * *

Anakin loved it when Watto left early. It didn't happen much, but when it did, Anakin had the run of the shop until closing time, and he reveled in the sense of freedom that it brought. After waiting a few minutes to make sure that the Toydarian hadn't forgotten anything, Anakin jumped off the stool behind the counter and bounced to the back of the shop. It was especially dark back there and filled with especially useless junk.

And, more importantly, Watto never went back there.

Navigating carefully, Anakin dug around until he uncovered a box that he'd stashed back there for events like this. He unwedged it and carried it back to the counter, where the light was better and there was enough space to work. He opened it. Inside was a half built scanner, the one he'd been working on for _ages_. When it was finished, it would let him scan for his and his mom's slave implants. They'd be able to cut the implants out and find a ship with the money Anakin knew his mother was saving and they could escape to somewhere—_anywhere_—else. They'd go somewhere far away from the heat and the sand and the loneliness of Tatooine and they would be _happy_.

Anakin had it all worked out.

The problem was that Anakin had to keep it stashed at work where it was easily hidden. Unlike the slave quarters, the shop wasn't subject to random searches by the gangs and the slave owners. But that meant that he could only build the scanner when Watto went home early. The other difficulty was the fact that he didn't know very much about programming. Mechanics were instinctual—he could wire, meld, construct, fine tune, and build better than most starship mechanics five or six times his age. But programming was different, and although he could build the scanner, he was having problems telling it to look for what he needed it to look for. And unlike C-3PO's programming, it wasn't something he could just download and ask for help on.

Frowning in thought, Anakin bent his head down to begin work on the machine. He tweaked a few wires experimentally and reached for the miniature welder, letting his brain sink into the place where be did his best mechanical work.

And then the door chimed.

The boy's head snapped up, eyes wide with alarm. He thrust down his panic and forced himself not to shove the scanner out of sight because an action like that would only make him look guilty.

The door slid open. Anakin held his breath. He couldn't see who was on the other side of the entry; the glare of the suns was too bright. For a long moment, he feared it was Wattoo.

But then his eyes cleared and it wasn't. He breathed a sigh of relief. They were outlanders.

Locals knew who he was; they'd ask questions about his project and Anakin knew he wasn't a very good liar. Outlanders tended to be nervous and sweat drenched, too scared and confused to do more than buy the necessary parts and scurry out. Or they were blustery pirates, who demanded their parts and then _stomped_ out.

Either way, outlanders didn't ask questions and they didn't linger.

Anakin carefully sized up the newcomers, wanting to know what to expect.

An R2 unit rolled in first. Anakin eyed it with envy. It was a beautiful, beautiful droid, in near perfect condition, its dome polished to a sheen and its sensors fully functional and-

Bang!

Anakin jumped at the unexpected the loud crash and almost knocked a piece of casing off the counter and onto the floor. The pile of parts that Anakin had so carefully positioned near the doorway at his master's request were now scattered across the floor in a sprawling mess. His eyes flashed to the cause of the disaster, a weird, nervous looking alien. Tall and floppy looking, he kept bopping up and down like the bounce-ball Anakin had when he was a kid. He kept bouncing around the mess, denting a few things and scattering the rest even further. The creature was stammering in weird Basic about how sorry he was.

Anakin's anger sparked—_that thing didn't know the first thing about being sorry!_ Anakin thought. _I'll have to clean all of that up before Watto comes in tomorrow and now I won't have time to work on the scanner because Mom doesn't like it when I stay too late and—_

A soft, earnest voice cut through Anakin's stormy thoughts. "We apologize for that!"

He turned his attention to the girl who had spoken and his anger disappeared even faster than it had appeared. She was on the ground, already stacking the scattered parts out of the way. She must have come in behind the tall alien, so Anakin hadn't seen her at first. Now that he had though, Anakin felt like his 'racer had just exploded in his stomach. She looked just like how Anakin always imagined an angel to look: all sharp lines and soft serenity and blazing light.

"Are you an angel?" Anakin asked the girl, feeling his insides go all wiggly. Then Anakin jumped realizing what he just said, his mom _always_ told him to think before he said anything and she said that he wasn't supposed to just ask people things like that.

But the embarrassment was quickly chased out by indignation when he heard a snort.

It was a young man, whose eyes were bouncing back and forth between the girl and Anakin. Anakin could feel the man's amusement. It irked Anakin to think that someone was making fun of him, but he didn't say anything—an amused customer was much better than an angry customer.

It did make Anakin feel better to know that the guy's hair looked silly. Anakin decided with a comforting sneer that at least he didn't have a little wimpy pony tail and a girly braid. Even better, the new guy was getting a nasty sunburn.

But despite how funny the guy looked, there was something else about the man that held Anakin's attention. He couldn't tell what it was though, and Anakin always got uncomfortable when he didn't know things. He shifted on his stool and shot a glare at him.

The stranger ignored the glare with a half-smile, and spoke.

"We need a hyperdrive generator for a J-Type 327 Nubian starship."

Anakin frowned, mentally flicking through the yard's inventory, trying to remember if they had that kind of hyperdrive in stock.

"There is _one_," he paused, eyes skimming over the group's clothing, knowing that quality was an indicator of their ability to pay. "But it's going to cost you. A _lot_."

The man raised his eyebrow, silently asking how much.

Anakin sighed, knowing the group would not be able to afford the part, even if he did give them a deal. Their clothing said they didn't have the gold.

"Well, first, it's going to hafta be either in gold or in spice. My master won't accept rep creds. He says that they're no good out here." He paused, preparing to give an initial number.

The girl interrupted, stepping forward, "You don't take Republican credits?"

Anakin shook his head, but he thought the confused frown on her face was pretty.

"That puts a bit of a spanner into our proceedings," the man muttered, though whether the man was talking to himself, to Anakin, or to the girl, Anakin couldn't tell. "Well then," the man turned to Anakin with a nod. _This guy is weird!_ Anakin thought. "Thank you for your help, young one. But, now we need to go find that part. Padme?" he turned to the door. The girl smiled and nodded at Anakin before picking her way across the shop to the exit. The man waited for the alien to begin to leave as well, before following the other two to the door.

They all reached the doorway. It slid open, Anakin blinked at the sudden sunlight, and then _it_ happened.

The world slowed to an almost stop. The girl's arm froze as it reached up to block the sun from her eyes, the alien stopped mid-stumble, and the young man paused half way through a step. Dust motes stilled in the sunlight. The world slowed kind of like it sometimes did during a race or like when he helped Kitster fight off The Bully, only it seemed _bigger_ this time, more _Important_. Everything froze and two choices flowed out in front of him, like wires in a droid, twisted and different.

Two Choices. Two possibilities.

On the one hand, he could stay quiet and not mention the idea that was slowly taking shape in his head. The group would leave and Anakin would not. He'd stay on Tatooine, with his mom. And they'd be freed someday 'cause he'd have to win a podrace _eventually_, right? And they'd be mostly happy. But, Anakin suddenly knew, he'd be stuck on Tatooine _forever_. And it would be boring and lonely and horrible, in its own special way. He wouldn't meet anyone or go anywhere. He'd just stay here and dry away into nothing. That's what would happen if he didn't help the strangers. The outcome was so not wizard.

But then, neither was the other option, really. If he told them that he might be able to help, that he had an idea, then the group would be able to leave the planet. And Anakin knew that he and his mom would get to go with them. But, unlike the first option where everything stretched out straight and clear, this one was all tangled and twisted before it just disappeared off into nothing. And that was terrifying. As unpleasant as a forever on Tatooine was, at least he knew what would happen. Not knowing like that was scary. Even worse, it would mean change. And Anakin didn't like change.

But, he and his mom would get to leave Tatooine. And that was a lot.

For Anakin, it was just enough.

Decision made, the world sped back up. The door chimed an exit, the girl cringed away from the blinding light, and the man just stopped himself from running into the back of his alien and droid counterparts.

"Wait!" Anakin called out. The outlanders froze again, but time kept flowing.

"What?" the girl asked, turning back around.

"No one around here takes Rep creds."

No one responded. The silence made Anakin uncomfortable, so he kept talking.

"I could build the part you need." He licked his lips, waiting for a response. It still didn't come. The girl just looked at him like he was crazy, but the young man was frowning like he was thinking really hard.

Anakin addressed his proposal to the man, "It's perfect! I'm a real good mechanic and I don't think anyone else has the part you want—Nubians are rare out here." Anakin paused. "Though, I might not be able to do the programming part. I'm not very good at that and I know there's a lot of programming in Nubian generators. But I know I can _build_ it and Watto never minds if I use the junk parts to make something. I do it all the time!" Anakin held the man's eyes, trying to look confident. He worked hard not to fidget at the weird look in the man's eye and at the weird feeling that the stranger gave him.

"But you're only a boy!" the girl exclaimed, jerking his attention back to her.

Anakin was deeply offended by this outburst, doubly so because he really liked the girl. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but the man interrupted his righteous indignation.

"If you are that skilled a mechanic," the young man said carefully, "then I may be able to help you with the programming. Though, again, we would still only have Republican credits to pay you with."

Anakin bit his lip. He was scared, asking for something so daring. But…but…he somehow just _knew_ that he could trust these people, at least in this. And it was too good an opportunity to pass up—these people were desperate.

He could only hope that they were desperate enough to accept his price.

"What if…whatifyoutookmeandmymomwithy ouwhenyouleft?"

Anakin tried to look confident so they wouldn't notice how funny his voice came out.

Immediately, the girl and the alien jumped into motion, both speaking over each other, partially talking to Anakin and partially to the man who had come in with them, the one that seemed to be in charge.

"Our mission is far too dangerous for—"

"Meesa isa thinkin' that's notta good idea—"

"—you don't even know where we are going—"

The man just stood, staring thoughtfully at Anakin, arms crossed over his chest. His head was tilted to the side and the look on his face was a lot like the one Anakin's mom got when she was trying to decide if he was lying or not. Anakin tried not to fidget. Although he was used to objections, he wasn't used to the scrutiny. It made him nervous and silent where he would usually try to defend himself.

"Deal."

The man said it in a quiet but stern voice. It somehow sliced through the girl and the alien's objections. Without taking his eye off Anakin, he waved away his companions' concerns.

"They are correct," the man began. "The mission we are on is a very dangerous one. But, if you and your mother want, we will bring you with us." He paused. "Assuming there is no one who has cause to chase after you."

"Of course not!" Anakin cried. It was only kind of a lie. Watto would have _cause_ to chase after them, but he wouldn't be able to afford the bounty hunters to do the chasing. Anyway, he wasn't going to give this man any reason to say no.

"Then, yes. You and your mother may accompany us to Coruscant. Though, I warn you, it will be cramped quarters. Our ship is already rather full."

The child shrugged away the warnings—he dealt with danger and small spaces every day. But the idea of traveling to Courscant had him bouncing on his stool. Even though he was planning on visiting every planet in the galaxy, Anakin still never thought he'd get _that_ far.

The man struck out his hand to shake on the agreement. Anakin slowly stretched out his own hand to grasp the stranger's, studying the man's face. There, he found an open honesty that Anakin had only ever seen in his mom. Anakin accepted the man's sincerity and grasped the man's hand tightly and shook on the deal.

He and his mother were going to Coruscant.

Everyone in the room kind of paused for a moment, like something important had just happened and they were trying to figure out what they were supposed to do next. Anakin was the first to speak, his natural dislike of silence enough for him to overcome the growing awkwardness.

"So! What are your guys's names?" Anakin asked, determined to break the silence. He kicked his feet back and forth in the air.

"My name is Padme," the girl offered. She sent him a soft smile that made his knees shiver, just a little. He smiled back.

"Meesa Jar Jar!" the creature exclaimed. "Meesa muy happy to be meetin' you—"

The creature continued talking. The man stepped forward and introduced himself over Jar Jar's chatter. "And I am Obi-Wan," he added with that same formality that was at odds with the derelict shop. The man, Obi-Wan, stuck his hand out for another handshake.

Anakin grasped the man's hand—Obi-Wan was just a weird name and why did he want _another_ handshake?—and shook it (again) with all the manners his mom had ever tried to teach him.

"My name's Anakin." He kicked his feet back and forth a few times before he suddenly slid off the stool and began to head towards the junk yard out back. "I'm gonna go find the generator that we've got. It'll make a good model," he called out before stepping out into the suns. _Might as well get to work, after all._

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**A/N Just a quick note: this is my first multi-fic story and I want to make it the best story it can possibly be. But I need ya'll pushing me in order to improve. Constructive criticism is welcome!  
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	3. Chapter 2

_**Vincent: But you're not armed! **_

_**The Doctor: I am! **_

_**Vincent: What with? **_

_**The Doctor: Overconfidence, this, and a small screwdriver. I'm absolutely sorted.**_

* * *

**Chapter 2 Armed with a Screwdriver**

Obi-Wan watched the boy go with an odd sense of melancholy. Though the boy was evidently a slave (a thought which made Obi-Wan's stomach twist in an uncomfortable combination of pity and outrage), he still had a natural buoyancy to his character that made him endearing.

The boy's skill with mechanics was also phenomenal, if the work on the counter was anything to go by. He'd noticed it when they'd first come in. The scanner, though clearly jerry rigged, had been very skillfully wired together and the soldering work was excellent. The Jedi enjoyed working with mechanics, though it was a hobby that he only rarely was able to indulge, so the opportunity to work with someone with such natural talent was exciting.

"Obi-Wan!" Padme hissed, interrupting his thoughts. "Are you sure this is a good idea? How can you just agree to let him come with us like that?"

"He's a slave, Padme."

That brought the young woman up short. Obi-Wan turned to face the girl.

"You hadn't realized?" he asked, frowning at her.

"No. I hadn't."

Obi-Wan was taken aback at Padme's naiveté; he had to remind himself she lived on a peaceful and sheltered planet, far away from the kinds of depravity he had come across on his missions.

"There's still illegal slavery in the Republic, Padme. Out here, outside Republican space, it's even worse." Unconsciously, his hand reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck. "If Anakin knows a way to escape whatever hold his master has on him, I'm happy to help."

Obi-Wan had had his own experiences with slavery and had long ago decided to do everything he could to help those in the same situation. And though he had been unable to help most he had come across, Anakin and his mother were two that he could help.

Even if it was illegal.

Padme looked uncomfortable. "That aside, how do we know that this boy can build anything? He's just a child!" Her voice was low, but concerned.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the girl in surprise. He hadn't expected Padme to worry about how old Anakin was. Age wasn't everything, and a teenage girl who acted as bodyguard for a teenaged queen should certainly understand that. At the Temple, Obi-Wan tutored an eight year old Initiate in advanced calculus and one of Obi-Wan's agemates had been fluent in ten separate languages before she had turned eleven. Conversely, Master Yoda, at several hundred years of age, could still easily beat anyone in the Temple in a duel without breaking a sweat. Age didn't mean Anakin couldn't build the part.

He took a breath, about to defend Anakin, but a testy voice cut through the dusty room before he could begin.

"I built a droid for my mom two years ago." It was Anakin. "And I'm almost done building my own pod-racer."

Anakin crossed into the shade of the shop. Behind him he was tugging a large hovercart, though the glare made it hard to see what was on it. It wasn't until he had reached the counter that Obi-Wan saw that it was the Nubian generator that they needed. Silently, Anakin angrily thrust everything on the counter into a small box, clearing the space for the hyperdrive generator. Then, he hefted the generator onto the counter before Obi-Wan could even offer to help.

"I know what I'm doing," the child added with a short glare at both of them.

There was another moment of silence. The Force pulsed in agreement with the child.

Padme began, "I'm sorry, I—"

A loud banging clash off to the left made Padme jump and spin around, hand clutching her chest. Whirling around, hand going instinctively to his hidden lightsaber, Obi-Wan was relieved to realize that it was just Jar Jar. The bumbling annoyance had knocked over yet another pile of parts, and the scattered mess was even bigger than his earlier disaster.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes to release his growing frustration into the Force. _Stars! Why did I let my master talk me into bringing the creature? All he ever does is make a mess! _

Padme took control of the situation. "Here, I'll help him clean it up." She added quietly to Obi-Wan, "It'll keep him out of your hair while you two get started on the generator."

Recognizing that it was Padme's way of saying that she was willing to wait and see how things played out, Obi-Wan muttered a quiet "thank you" in her direction" before he turned to the counter where Anakin was seated.

"I need to report to my—ship," Obi-Wan said to him. The Padawan just barely stopped himself from referring to Qui-Gon as his master, knowing that the word would carry far different connotations to a child of slavery than it did to him. "I need to let them know what our plans are. I will return in a moment." Anakin nodded in absentminded acknowledgement, attention already invested in the generator he was circling.

Besides, there was no need to let Anakin know that they were Jedi, at least not yet.

Keeping with his desire for privacy, Obi-Wan walked out the back of the shop into the messy junk yard. He found the largest shady spot that he could and then pulled out his comlink to contact the ship. The pilot on watch answered immediately.

"I need to speak with Master Jinn," Obi-Wan requested.

"Of course, sir. Give me a second to pass on the message." There was a moment of static before the pilot's voice returned. "One moment, Padawan Kenobi. Master Jinn is in the galley. He said it would take a moment to get to the comm station with his knee the way it is."

"Appreciated, sir."

His master's knee must have been worse than they thought because it took several minutes for Qui-Gon's voice to appear.

"Padawan?"

Obi-Wan relaxed when his master finally reached the comm station, the sound of his master's voice soothing much of the day's tension.

"Yes, Master. We arrived in town and have located the part we need." Obi-Wan then launched into a short explanation of the deal he had struck with the young Anakin, though he did not let his master know that the 'talented mechanic' was a slave they would be rescuing from slavery. Qui-Gon commended his apprentice for his plan, though he reminded Obi-Wan of their time constraints, worried that building such a complicated part from scratch would take time. The Jedi master also balked at the additional passengers, and Obi-Wan had to convince his master that it really was the only way to get the part, aside from outright theft. He did conveniently fail to mention that he hadn't shopped around much.

Eventually, Qui-Gon capitulated, promising to tell the Queen the news. After all, there nothing on the ship that they could use to trade instead, and so free passage was a fortunate compromise.

"Alright, then. Alert me when you head back to the ship for the night," Qui-Gon ordered, wrapping up the short debate.

"Of course, Master. I will talk to you then. Kenobi out." Obi-Wan shut off the comlink, feeling much better for having had the conversation. Even after years of evidence to the contrary, some small corner of Obi-Wan was still convinced that his master could fix everything.

Feeling ready to lead the charge again, the Padawan began to navigate his way back to the shop, eager to return inside.

He stepped through the open doorway into the shop, past the invisible wall of cooled air. The temperature change soothed the sunburn he'd acquired on his trek into town, and he closed his eyes for a nano-second to relish the moment. When his eyes snapped open, he saw that Jar Jar had knocked another pile of parts over and was sulking in a corner while Padme attempted to make sense of _more_ mess. From her position in the middle of the chaos, she raised an eyebrow in question, her head tilted towards Anakin. _Everything ok?_ she was asking. Obi-Wan nodded and she smiled in response, clearly relieved. Then, she returned her attention to her self-appointed task. R2-D2 had settled down by the counter, sensors focused on the large generator resting on the surface. Anakin's method of studying was distinctly more hands on, as the child ran his fingers along the machine's grooves and wires.

"What have you figured out, so far?" Obi-Wan asked Anakin.

The boy was startled and his annoyance flashed through the Force for an instant before being completely submerged by pure, earnest excitement. He began to eagerly explain what he had already gleaned from the junk machine. Obi-Wan listened carefully, gauging the child's knowledge.

Obi-Wan was dumbfounded to see just how much Anakin had already figured out, as well as the child's instinctual understanding of the generator. It was clear that the boy had not been exaggerating when he had bragged about his mechanical skills earlier, and if anything, had been almost modest. For the initial part of the conversation, Obi-Wan's knowledge of machines was eclipsed and he was left simply prodding Anakin with questions, making sure the kid thought everything through carefully. He also made sure to jot everything down carefully through their discussions, to make sure they didn't forget anything important later.

However, as they began to delve into the inner workings that made such a complicated system function, Obi-Wan's help became increasingly important, as he was able to explain how the computer itself worked. Anakin eagerly soaked up everything Obi-Wan said, gladly taking his turn to ask all the questions. Obi-Wan eagerly obliged the child, enjoying the rapid and intelligent conversation.

All in all, Obi-Wan found himself having a magnificent time, discussing something he enjoyed with someone who knew what he was talking about—unlike Master Qui-Gon who didn't know a hydrospanner from a hammer. He was also taking the chance to study the child himself, wanting to figure out what he could about their ship's newest passenger.

What struck Obi-Wan the most, though, was Anakin's mercurial nature. One moment he was excited, the next he was angry, and the next inquisitive and curious. For a Jedi used to calmness and temperance, these hair-trigger emotions were almost overwhelming.

It was quite some time later when the two felt like they had a good grasp of the machine. They reviewed the list of parts they had compiled and jotted down a few parts they had missed in their earlier eagerness. Satisfied, the two called it quits.

"I can collect all the parts we need tomorrow," Anakin said, straightening up the countertop. "I'll be here all day."

"And I will double check to make sure we are on the right track, and I'll remember to look up those two algorithms."

Anakin nodded. "The shop is closed the day after tomorrow and the day after that for the Boonta Eve podrace, and then for the holiday. We can build the generator then."

"Holiday?" Padme asked in confusion from her Gungan-watching post. "What holiday?"

"Boonta," the well-duh was clear in Anakin's tone. "Boonta? You've never heard of it?" Both Obi-Wan and Padme shook their heads. "It's the shortest night of the year and people stay up all night and drink and the next day no one has to go to work. And best of all, on Boonta Eve, there's the big podrace! It's the best one on Tatooine and one of the biggest on the whole circuit!"

"So, the shop will be empty for two days?" Padme interrupted.

Anakin, peeved at being cut off, crinkled his nose. "Watto is going to the races, so the shop will be closed on Boonta Eve. And _everything's_ closed on the holiday."

"Shall we continue our work then, Anakin?" Obi-Wan inquired.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, then. As long as we have that all worked out, I think it is about time we head back to our ship. It's getting late," Obi-Wan said.

Padme wished Anakin farewell first and Obi-Wan was very amused that Padme's simple hug was enough to make Anakin squirm awkwardly and turn pink under his tan. Jar Jar gave his own lively good-bye, fortunately without falling off his feet, and R2-D2 gave a cheery whirl and a series of beeps that Anakin seemed to kind of understand.

"Good day, Anakin. Thank you for all of your help, we certainly appreciate this. And we couldn't do this without you." Obi-Wan added, "If there is anything we can do for you, please, let me know."

Obi-Wan gave a short little bow (Anakin awkwardly tried to mimic it) and then turned to follow Padme and company to the door.

R2-D2 opened the blast door to the street. It swept open, and a torrential blast of sand blew in, sending the group in the doorway shuddering backwards, hands flying up to their faces to protect their eyes. Everyone began coughing as they inhaled the coarse sand.

A sandstorm had picked up sometime during the afternoon and had whipped itself into a fury. There was no way that the small group could possible venture out into the maelstrom.

Instinctively reaching out with the Force, Obi-Wan flicked the door's closing mechanism. The door snapped closed. Everyone inside breathed a sigh of relief as the storm was shut out. The dust that had swept in slowly settled. No one seemed to have noticed that the door had shut by itself.

The silence in the room stretched out, peppered by a few half-hearted coughs, until Obi-Wan broke it. "Anakin, it seems we may have been a bit hasty in our desire to leave," he said dryly, turning to face him.

Padme gave a not-quite snort. Obi-Wan was happy that someone in the room got his sense of humor—Anakin just looked confused.

"You can't go back to your ship in a storm like that," Anakin said, his nose crinkling a little. "You'll have to stay here."

"You don't mind?" Padme asked.

"'course not! You can't go to your ship in a storm like that," Anakin repeated. "Besides, we can start collecting the parts we need."

"Do you mind if I help?" the girl asked, her eyes flicking between Obi-Wan and Anakin.

"If you know what everything looks like," Anakin responded, a skeptical edge in his voice.

"I should know what at least some of the components look like," Padme defended, a tinge of haughtiness playing into her tone.

Obi-Wan interrupted the two. "Is there any kind of organizational system here? Any where we should start?"

"Well…" Anakin began. Then he shook his head. "No, not really."

Obi-Wan tugged at his braid. This was going to take awhile.

* * *

Padme was safely ensconced at the counter, well out of the way. She had helped Obi-Wan and Anakin for as long as she had been able to, but as the search had quickly devolved into a race to see who could find the most components, she had gracefully bowed out. It became a close competition between Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Artoo (Jar Jar had been exiled to the yard on a wild goose chase that should keep him busy for awhile), Since then, she had been relegated to keeping score and refereeing, though most of her attention went to watching Anakin and Obi-Wan interact.

It was highly entertaining.

Obi-Wan, who she had originally pegged as distant though nice, apparently had sharp sense of humor and a strong playful streak. He was also very, _very_ competitive. Anakin, who waffled between immature and painfully grown up, had attacked the game with a single-mindedness that was disconcerting from someone so young.

This meant that the game—such as it was—was very exciting. The rules constantly seemed to shift and although Padme made several contradictory calls (letting Anakin get away with a tackle before citing the Jedi for an interception), both boys abided by her rulings, however ridiculous they were.

Though, that was probably because most of her rulings were in Anakin's favor and Obi-Wan was simply too mature and good natured to complain about the bias.

Anakin, the funny little boy, had the home-turf advantage. He knew what kinds of parts he needed and, for the most part, knew more or less where to find them. With these advantages, Anakin was able to keep a solid lead throughout much of the evening, while Obi-Wan and Artoo spent their time neck in neck for second.

Obi-Wan had a few advantages of his own, though. The first was his height—he could reach parts that Anakin simply couldn't. He was also ruthless. Once, he even tickled Anakin into submission, before claiming the part the child had found. When Anakin had objected, Padme had allowed the maneuver, telling Anakin that if he was able to do the same to the taller human, he was more than welcome to steal Obi-Wan's components as well.

Though, she was surprised that they had understood a word she had said on the matter, considering how hard she had been laughing.

The boxes in front of her piled up as the two humans and Artoo darted around the room in their scavenger hunt, tripping over each other (it was mostly Anakin doing the tripping), teasing each other (that was mostly Obi-Wan. To be honest, the teasing seemed to confuse Anakin), and gloating (surprisingly, this was Artoo).

As the parts piled up, Padme was faced with three boxes full of precariously balanced components and parts. She began to organize them so that they would fit without toppling. It gave her something concrete to do with her hands when she wasn't marking the score and shouting out the names of the parts they still needed. She had never liked sitting still.

In the end, it was Artoo who managed to sneak up from third place to beat Anakin's first, putting Anakin in second and Obi-Wan in last. While Anakin and Obi-Wan had been rough housing, the droid had kept plodding forward in a most determined manner. Obi-Wan conceded defeat with a satisfied grin, though Anakin sulked at the counter. The droid was doing his victory lap around the shop.

"So, that's all of it?" Obi-Wan asked Padme as he leaned against the end of the counter and looked over the mountain range of components.

Padme glanced down at the list she had been given. "It looks like. Everything on the list at least."

Anakin put his head down on the counter with a thump. Obi-Wan and Padme shared an amused glance before she returned her focus to untangling a knot of wire they were cannibalizing. Obi-Wan's attention drifted off into space. Artoo wrapped up his final lap and wheeled over to join the rest of the company at the counter.

"Anakin," Padme began after a while, "you said that—Anakin?" She looked up from her work. The child had fallen asleep with his head on the counter and was now lightly snoring. "I didn't realize it was so late!" she muttered, glancing briefly at her chrono.

"You are still on Naboo time. I imagine it is much earlier there than it is here," Obi-Wan said practically.

Padme tilted her head in acknowledgement. "Assuming the storm has stopped, we should be going."

"I'll go check on the storm. And on Jar Jar. Keep an eye on Anakin?"

"Of course," Padme replied as the Jedi went into the junk yard out back. The Queen tugged at a blue-green wire, following the cracked casing around an orange wire and a pastel green one. She hoped that the parts were still usable, despite their obvious age.

"The storm has stopped!" Obi-Wan called from the yard.

A crash echoed from out back. _Obi-Wan's found Jar Jar,_ she thought. A moment later, and another, smaller crash, and the two cleared the doorway. Jar Jar's ears flopped with embarrassment. Obi-Wan was frowning.

"Are we ready then?" Obi-Wan asked, all politeness, ignoring the wobbling Gungan.

"If you give me a moment to wake Anakin." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "Anakin." He woke with a start. "Anakin. The storm has stopped. It's time we headed back to our ship."

"But…" Anakin scrubbed at his eyes and rolled out his shoulders. He shook the sleep out of his eyes. "But, you said earlier that your ship is on the outskirts of town. You can't go out there at night!" The sleep on his face was replaced by genuine worry embroidered with a deep fear. "The Tuskens have been raiding a lot lately—it's too dangerous!"

Obi-Wan leaned over the counter so that he was at the boy's level and then looked him carefully in the eye. "Anakin, we can take care of ourselves."

Anakin gave him a _you-better-be-telling-the-truth _stare (complete with pursed lips and a deep frown that mirrored Obi-Wan's) before accepting the words with a worried nod.

Padme spoke briskly, "So, Anakin, where do we need to hide everything?"

Anakin found suitable hiding spots for all three boxes in various dark recesses around the room. Then, he pulled out a box from under the counter, the one he had stuff down there that afternoon when they had come in, and tucked it carefully under his arm.

"You will be careful, though, won't you," Anakin reaffirmed. "Because you can stay at my house tonight instead. It would be a lot safer…."

"No, we must return to our ship. We were expected back hours ago," Obi-Wan stated, though kindly. He led the group to the door and palmed it open.

"We will be fine, Anakin," Padme told the boy, leaning down and giving him a hug, knowing he needed it. Anakin returned it tightly. When she let go, he busied himself with shutting off the lights and turning on the security system while the rest waited in the doorway. Then, they all stepped outside and Anakin shut and locked the door.

The street outside was surprisingly busy, despite the late hour. The cantina two buildings over seemed to be doing a lively trade that night, the sound overflowing into the streets. Fortunately, the half-drunk patrons did not even glance in the group's direction.

"We will see you the day after tomorrow," Obi-Wan assured Anakin. "What time should we arrive here?"

Eight o'clock local time, they decided. Obi-Wan shook hands with Anakin, Jar Jar waved, and R2-D2 bumped into him with a quiet beep, making Anakin laugh.

"Bye, you guys." And with that, Anakin turned and disappeared into the night. The small group set off for their ship.

* * *

**A/N Just a quick note: this is my first multi-fic story and I want to make it the best story it can possibly be. But I need ya'll pushing me in order to improve. Constructive criticism is welcome!  
**

_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_


	4. Chapter 3

**A.N. Thank you everyone for your reviews! They really mean a lot—I rushed my review process to make sure that I got a chapter up today just for you guys :D**

**Also, for all of the guest reviewers that I couldn't PM personally: THANK YOU!**

**And now, since the world didn't end on 12/21, a special present: Chapter 4.**

* * *

"_**The board is set, the pieces are moving." -Gandalf**_

* * *

**Chapter 3 Tatooine**

Shmi paused in her sleeping son's doorway, gazing at the small figure sprawled on the bed. He rarely ever slept so late—Anakin was an energetic boy who was usually up with the suns. But, after last night, Shmi understood his exhaustion and had let him sleep as late as she could.

After all, it wasn't every night that Anakin came home actually convinced that they were going to escape.

A wan smile crossed Shmi's features. As much as she wanted to believe her son's conviction, she had seen his hopes dashed too many times to believe that a mysterious Jedi had really appeared in Watto's shop and was willing to provide them passage off planet.

She was no longer as hopeful and trusting as her son and had long since learned not to take things at face value. After all, what would a Jedi be doing so far outside Republican space? The cylinder that Anakin claimed was a lightsabre could be anything; the Jedi weren't the only ones who carried such a weapon. She was terrified that her son had made a deal with a devil and had merely trapped himself into a worse life.

And even if the stranger _was_ a Jedi and _was_ telling the truth, Anakin still had to finish the scanner _before_ they finished the generator and the Jedi left the planet.

But still, that fervent hope that lit him up the night before, that utter confidence her son had that _this was their chance to get away from Tatooine_, had her brushing her rough hand softly across her son's forehead, ruffling his hair, and waking him up. Shmi Skywalker was willing to risk a great deal for her son's happiness and future, even if it meant taking the chance that these people were not what they seemed.

All she could do was hope.

* * *

On the Nubian cruiser, Obi-Wan's second day on Tatooine began by slicing into the nearest HoloNet broadcaster. Of course, he couldn't do it by himself. He was good at slicing, but he was nowhere near _that_ good—Temple programing classes tended to shy away from the obviously illegal. It took the combined efforts of Obi-Wan and the Queen's handmaiden/slicer, Ninté, just to crack the firewall and get into the system. Fortunately, the network was weaker and less complicated so far away from the Core—which was the only reason the slicing took _hours_ rather than _days_.

Ninté slipped out of the cockpit once they were in the system, leaving Obi-Wan to his research. It was slow going, especially because there was lots of information on hyperdrives in the vast reaches of the HoloNet. The first search engine alone brought up several billion hits, just on their model. But most of it was about how hyperdrives were made, their history, or how Nubian hyperdrives compared to other models. There were no plans for building Nubian hyperdrives in the public domain.

Not that Obi-Wan was surprised. But it did leave Obi-Wan searching in places that _weren't_ public domain.

A few of _those_ blueprints had required a fair bit of slicing that he most certainly was NOT going to mention to his master. Still, after hours of riffling through the companies' secret files and plans, the Padawan had what he was looking for—a basic how-to outline for building a hyperspace generator.

Obi-Wan grinned as he saved his collection of data. Apparently he and Anakin were even better than they thought; their own plans for building a hyperspace generator had not only improved on the older system in Anakin's shop, but had even improved on the fancy, new-released model he'd just pulled from the HoloNet.

Satisfied that everything was saved, Obi-Wan pulled his attention away from the records. He carefully backtracked out of the system and erased as many of his cyber-footprints as possible. Hopefully they wouldn't notice his intrusion at all, but if they traced the slice, they were unlikely to look much further once they found it was from Tatooine.

It was already late in the afternoon. The suns were setting behind the ship, casting a long shadow deep into the desert towards the settlement. Obi-Wan gazed out the viewport, half-meditating, and mentally reviewing everything he had learned. He wanted to impress what he had learned, not only for the next few days, but so that he would remember it after that. Who knew when jerry-rigging hyperdrive generators could be useful?

"Padawan?"

"Hm? Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan inquired, spinning in his chair to face the doorway. Qui-Gon had appeared while he was lost in thought and was now leaning against the door jamb.

"Did you find what you were searching for?"

"I think so," Obi-Wan noddedthoughtfully. "Did you know that the hyperdrive as we know it today didn't exist until about two hundred years ago? Before that, even with lightspeed, it took over a week to do a journey that now takes us a day and a half!"

"That's the information you were searching for?" Qui-Gon inquired, with a skeptical eyebrow.

Obi-Wan's response was haughty, "It was a necessary part of gaining a proper understanding of Nubian hyperdrive systems."

Qui-Gon hid a grin that Obi-Wan could feel. "Of course it was, Padawan." He shook his head. "I am glad you are finished, though, since I came to tell you that dinner is ready."

Right on cue, Obi-Wan's previously reasonable stomach rumbled in agreement, loud enough for Qui-Gon to raise an eyebrow. "Have you eaten at all today? You would forget to eat if I wasn't here to remind you! What will you do when you are Knighted and expected to care for yourself?" he scolded.

"As if I've never had to remind you to eat, Master?" he replied, standing up and following Qui-Gon out of the cockpit.

"Of course not! I am a paragon of common sense!"

"Mmm," Obi-Wan replied, noncommittally.

"Hey! What do you mean, _mmm_?"

"Hmm? I didn't say anything, Master!"

Smiling, Qui-Gon shook his head, "Of course, not, Padawan. Of course not."

* * *

Anakin was halfway down the street when his Mom's voice floated towards him.

"And, Ani, make sure you invite them over for dinner!"

Anakin flashed his hand over his shoulder in acknowledgement. He didn't turn around. Yesterday, Mom had told him to invite his new friends over and had kept reminding him over and over and over again. _Like I would forget_, Anakin thought with an eye roll. Anakin would've been annoyed by the constant reminders if he hadn't been so excited about _everything_.

He was also far too tired to be properly annoyed. Although he had gotten to sleep in that morning (work always started closer to six than eight), he had stayed up late the last two nights, doggedly attempting to finish the implant scanner. He had a deadline now—the device had to be done before Padme and Obi-Wan's ship left. If it wasn't done, Anakin was scared he'd get left behind.

Getting left behind was something that had always terrified him, a threat that had loomed large since he was old enough to realize how easily he and his mother could be separated. But this new threat twisted his stomach in a different way. His mom didn't _want_ to leave him, he knew that. But what about these people? What if they did want to leave him? He had liked them all a lot the other day. He didn't want them to leave without him! He wouldn't _let_ them leave without him and his mother.

But what would happen if he didn't finish the scanner fast enough?

Obi-Wan and Padme and Artoo weren't at the shop when he arrived. Anakin refused to let himself feel nervous about that. After all, he could just be kind of early. And they could just be kind of late.

It didn't mean that they had forgotten him or anything.

Anakin unlocked the door and let himself in with a scowl. The room was cool but stuffy. Anakin opened the door to the yard. The breeze from the back and the shade from the building would keep the store mostly cool during the heat of the day, hopefully negating a need for the air conditioning.

Anakin scraped a hand across his forehead, wiping at the sweat that had appeared now that he was out of the suns. He thought about digging out the boxes that they needed, but he was too tired. He collapsed onto a stool by the counter and waited. He buried his face into his arms and yawned loudly.

The door slid open. A voice called out, "Anakin?" It was Obi-Wan.

_They came!_ rang through Anakin's head.

Not that he had been worried or anything.

"Hey, Obi-Wan! Guess what? I—" Anakin began, only to be cut off when Artoo burst in behind Obi-Wan. The little droid almost knocked Obi-Wan off his feet. Obi-Wan regained his balance, hands up in mock surrender, while Artoo beeped angrily at him before twirling to face Anakin in greeting.

Anakin burst out laughing. "Good morning to you too, Artoo." But then, his laughter dried up and he frowned. "Where's…Where's Padme?"

'Cause really, Padme was the one he'd really been looking forward to seeing. After all, Anakin had spent _all day_ yesterday looking forward to seeing her. But now she wasn't here. Feeling cheated, he crossed his arms and stared hard at Obi-Wan

Obi-Wan walked all of the way into the shop and the door hissed shut behind him.

"She wasn't much use two days ago—"

"So you just left her behind?" Anakin was indignant. His eyes narrowed. He hoped he looked just as scary as his mom did when she was mad. "Just because she didn't help us figure out the generator doesn't mean—"

"She chose to remain behind on the cruiser." Obi-Wan interrupted, surprising Anakin into silence. "She has duties to take care of and felt she would be of better use there than sitting around here," Anakin flinched at the man's cutting tone. Obi-Wan must have noticed because his voice softened with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound harsh. It's just that, if you'd let me finish, you'd know that she had asked me tell you that she says hello, wishes both of us luck, and that she will see you in the next couple of days."

"Oh." Anakin ducked his head, hair flopping into his face.

"Yes, _oh_," Obi-Wan said with a not-quite-smile. The eyebrow went up again, but it was nicer this time. "Now, are you ready to get started?"

Anakin nodded until Obi-Wan turned around. Then he rolled his eyes_. I've been ready for ages. You're the ones who're late_. But he didn't say it out loud.

"Artoo, can you pull up those plans we downloaded yesterday?" Obi-Wan asked the Artoo.

With agreeable bleep, a hologram flickered to life on the table: a three dimensional breakdown of a Nubian hyperdrive generator. Anakin shifted until he was sitting on his knees and could lean over the image.

"This is so wizard!" He grinned up at Obi-Wan, who was almost as excited.

"Isn't it? And look at this!" Obi-Wan said, pointing out the various differences between their plans and the blueprint.

Anakin chimed in, interrupting Obi-Wan's lecture with questions.

Without a break in their rapid fire Q and A, they pulled out the heavy storage boxes from their hiding places and put them on the floor next to the counter, then settled in to begin construction.

* * *

There had barely been a lull in the conversation when Anakin broke the quiet with a question.

"You're a Jedi."

Well, technically it was a question, even if it didn't sound like one. Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin was fishing. Still, it took his diplomatic training to keep his face calm. The kid was smart.

Options and responses sped through Obi-Wan's mind. He could deny the whole thing, tell Anakin he was mistaken and just hope that a) he could sell the lie now and b) he could recover from it when Anakin was aboard the ship in a few days and knew the truth for sure. He could deflect the statement and hope that the Force had been wrong and Anakin wasn't the doggedly determined person he seemed to be. Or, he could go for broke and tell the truth.

Not liking any of those options, Obi-Wan took a different route. _Step one, take control of the situation._ "Am I?" he queried, eyebrows raised, turning around.

Not quite deflection, not quite telling the truth, and certainly not lying. Rule one of negotiation—always see what the other side knows already before giving _anything_ away.

Anakin gave him a look. "Yes, you are."

"Hm. And what makes you say that?" He carefully kept his voice mild, inquisitive. "I can't imagine that the Jedi reach the Outer Rim often." Despite his worry over how the conversation would go, he couldn't help but feel somewhat gleeful at getting to turn his Master's tactics onto someone else. _No wonder they always ask questions like this!_ It was fun.

"_Everyone_ knows that Jedi carry _laser swords_. And you have one on your belt." He pointed to the half hidden cylinder at Obi-Wan's waist.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to cover it up. "Other people carry laser swords too, not just Jedi."

Anakin flashed him an exasperated look. "_Mom_ says that only _Jedi_ carry laser swords."

_Well, if your __**Mom**__ said_, Obi-Wan thought with amusement. But he didn't argue, recognizing the stubbornness that set Anakin's shoulders. It reminded him of Qui-Gon.

"I dare not argue with your mother, Anakin," he replied, half teasing.

Anakin's stubbornness melted away like snow on Coruscant, leaving behind an awed grin.

"I knew it!" Anakin cried, taking Obi-Wan's ambiguous statement as proof of his suspicions. "I was right!" He grinned widely and began to shoot off questions, far too fast to expect any real answers.

Obi-Wan raised his hands up, like he was using them to push against the physical weight of Anakin's excitement. "Anakin." The questions kept coming, even faster now. Obi-Wan felt his frustration building rapidly and perilously close to anger. "Anakin!"

The child's mouth snapped shut and he looked at Obi-Wan with wide eyes.

"Anakin," the young man continued forcefully. "You must calm down. The mission I am on, the fact that we are on this planet, all of this MUST remain a secret. It is of the highest importance." Obi-Wan tried to keep his voice calm and stern. "We warned you two days ago that our mission was dangerous. It is imperative that we keep a low profile. My Ma—_teacher_ was injured recently and so we are doubly vulnerable right now. No one can know we are on planet."

"What happened? Is your teacher ok? Where you guys in a _fight_? That's so wizard! What happened? Did you —"

"Anakin!" his voice was sharp again. Anakin shrank back, pulling into himself. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, searching for patience and trying to release his frustration. It was scary how much Anakin got under his skin—he wasn't supposed to lose his temper like this anymore!

"Anakin. This is not a game. There are very dangerous people after us. They will hurt you and your mother if they think it will help them get what they want. If they attack, you and your mother will be in grave danger along with us. We are happy to give you passage, but you MUST be careful, for your sake as well as ours."

_Finally_ Anakin looked serious, even subdued. Obi-Wan quashed the sense of guilt he felt at making Anakin feel bad, but it was the only way he could think of to make Anakin settle down and _listen_.

"They…they aren't going to come after Mom, are they?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, but it felt more like a shrug. _I don't know_. "We will do everything in our power to keep both of you safe. _I_ will do everything in my power to keep both of you safe."

Anakin pursed his lips. "But you don't know."

Even Artoo was quiet, waiting for Obi-Wan's answer. After a painful pause, Obi-Wan shook his head, _No_.

"I'll be careful," Anakin's voice was unusually quiet.

Obi-Wan smiled softly. "That's all I ask."

It seemed to be enough for Anakin, who, after a short silence, turned the conversation back to its previous topic: the Jedi. His incessant questions kept the conversation going, asking about Obi-Wan's life in the Temple and why he had his hair cut and…and everything. Obi-Wan let the questions wash over him. Sometimes he answered them, though they only led to more questions from Anakin. Occasionally, the two would lapse into silent concentration, though Anakin never let it last long.

During one such silence, Obi-Wan set down his screwdriver and leaned away from the counter to get a better look at everything they had done. He tugged on his braid as he surveyed the mess sprawling across the table. His lips pursed as he took in the chaos.

Anakin, who had begun working on the frame of the device, was almost finished. He was currently standing on the counter, soldering something to the top of the structure. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to chide Anakin for climbing on furniture, only to snap it shut again. Anakin wasn't an Initiate, and Obi-Wan certainly wasn't the child's Master, and really, standing on the counter _was_ the only way Anakin could reach what he was working on.

Obi-Wan's space was much tidier, consisting of a corner of the counter, covered in his project. He was fixing up a junk computer that had just enough memory to run the hyperdrive generator. Or so he and Anakin hoped. He had hoped to get this part of the device done earlier that morning, but it had been slow going.

But really, Obi-Wan reminded himself, even though it seemed like it was taking forever, it wasn't really. After all, what they were doing was impossible. Using junk parts and blueprints, he was building one of the most complicated ships parts with the help of a nine year old. It didn't matter that Anakin was a prodigy, _what they were doing was impossible_.

But the impossible was _working_.

Obi-Wan's thoughts were interrupted by a petulant voice. Abruptly jerked out of his thoughts, the Jedi missed what was said. "What?"

"I _said_, I'm_ hungry_. Can I eat my lunch?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "You don't have to ask me. If you're hungry, eat."

Anakin stared at him in a long moment. "Watto always makes me ask before I eat lunch. Mom too, most times," he said, as he climbed down from the counter.

"But I'm not them," Obi-Wan pointed it. "But lunch does sound like a good idea." The young man suddenly noticed the ache in his mid-section. He dug out his own lunch from under the counter. "Artoo, would you mind running diagnostics on the computer while we eat?"

The droid beeped his acquiescence. Obi-Wan and Anakin cleared out a section of the counter and settled in to eat their lunches.

The giant, pre-packed lunch that had been waiting for Obi-Wan in the cooling unit that morning (labeled in Padme's clear handwriting and filled with lots and lots of food) had seemed overly large when to Obi-Wan when he'd grabbed it. He mentally thanked her now though, when he saw the meager sandwich that Anakin had for his lunch. Because of her foresight, he had more than enough food to share, even a growing boy like Anakin.

"Want some?" Obi-Wan asked, nudging a sandwich in Anakin's direction.

"Naw, I'm alright." The hungry gleam in his eyes said otherwise though.

Obi-Wan just shrugged and munched on his own sandwich. He left the rest of the food spread across the workspace in front of Anakin.

It didn't take long for Anakin to cave and grab an apple lying on the counter.

"What's this?" The desert child held it with one hand and poked it curiously with the other.

Sheer surprise had Obi-Wan pausing. "It's an apple."

Anakin's face lit up. "Really?" He was excited. "I've always wanted to try one of these!" Anakin rolled it around in his hands.

Obi-Wan grabbed the other one and silently demonstrated how to eat it. Anakin followed the motions with wide eyes before mimicking them.

"My mom talks ab—I remember!" Apple-laced spit came flying out Anakin's mouth in his excitement over his own interruption.

Startled by the sudden outburst, Obi-Wan almost choked on his own apple bite. He coughed. Anakin kept talking.

"I forgot! I knew that I'd forgotten something and I spent all morning wondering what it was and I couldn't remember—"

"What is it, Anakin?" the Jedi asked impatiently, still regaining his breath.

"Sorry!" (Though Anakin wasn't really all that sorry.) "It's just that I knew I had forgotten something and now I've remembered!" Anakin paused for dramatic effect. "Mom wanted me to invite you over for dinner tonight!" he said grandly. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, but Anakin carried on, "I think it's because she doesn't really believe that you exist—she says that I tell too many stories. I said that you were real and that you were a Jedi and that if I could get my scanner done in time, then we could go with you, but…yeah. She wants you to come over for dinner tonight. We're having meatballs."

Obi-Wan winced. He hadn't thought of Anakin's mother and her response to everything. He'd been too caught up with finding a generator and then with helping Anakin. But, now that he thought on it, he realized why someone would—and, indeed, _should_—have reservations about the kind of deal he had struck with Anakin. No wonder she wanted to meet with him!

"I would love to come and have dinner with you and your mother," Obi-Wan replied with a tight smile. _Hopefully I can reassure her. The poor woman must be frantic, wondering what we have in store for her and her son._

* * *

The apartment was clean, dinner was ready. All that she had left to do was wait.

Her son had certainly come by his impatience naturally—Shmi hated waiting.

She set down her mending and checked the window by the door. Again. It wasn't because she was worried about Anakin, of course. It was much too early to start worrying about him yet. _But what if Anakin got hurt coming home? What if his new 'friends' thought it was easier to just kidnap him now? What if-_

_Really_, Shmi reminded herself firmly, _it isn't actually late yet. He'll be home soon. _

It was full dark outside. Shmi paced into the kitchen. She futzed with the dishes and most adamantly didn't keep an eye on the wall chrono. The mother was so focused on focusing that she completely missed the front door swish open and the footsteps that crossed the small apartment. It took a loud "Mom! Mom!" echoing through the small confines of the apartment to finally arrest her attention.

"Ani!" she cried, turning around and embracing her son.

"Mom! Look! I brought Obi-Wan just like you told me too! Padme and Jar Jar didn't come in today, but that's okay because Jar Jar kept making a huge mess and Padme said that she'd see me in a couple of days, so it's just Obi-Wan. And Artoo. Can you believe that—"

Her son kept blathering on excitedly, but after assuring herself that Anakin was in one piece, her attention turned to the guest her son had brought. Resisting the urge to put her hands on her hips like she did when her Ani had done something wrong, Shmi looked the stranger over, sizing up his intentions.

His appearance did nothing to answer any of her questions: this Obi-Wan character was a young man with auburn hair and non-descript, brown clothing. He had a cylinder hanging, half-hidden, from his belt—whether it was Anakin's lightsabre or not, Shmi couldn't tell. His hairstyle was odd though his face was handsome. He carried himself well, like someone who knew what he was doing, but he had subtle hesitancy about him, despite that. Whether it was simple shyness or something more sinister, Shmi was would find out.

"Ms. Skywalker," he said, speaking over Anakin's chattering. Shmi mentally gave him points for that—her son wasn't going to stop talking for a few more minutes and there was no need to delay introductions just for that. He had a guarded, though pleasantly polite smile on this face as he held out his hand for her to shake.

"Obi-Wan, I take it?" He gave a small smile, flicking his eyes over towards the still talking Anakin (she was really going to have to work on Anakin's social awareness soon), before meeting hers once more.

"Yes ma'am," he replied with a courteous smile. She took his hand. It was a firm, reliable handshake. More mental points.

"-anyways, Mom, I think Padme will be very excited to meet you." Anakin paused to take a breath. "Is dinner ready?"

Shmi noticed that the word 'dinner' lit up Obi-Wan's face in much the same way it did her Ani's. She shook her head. _Boys_.

But it did make the mysterious young man seem a great deal less mysterious.

* * *

Obi-Wan's internal alarm blared, waking him with a sharp jolt. He found himself staring up at a low daub-colored ceiling with a few poorly placed aches in his back, both of which quickly told him where he was. He hadn't intended to fall asleep at the Skywalkers', but Anakin had brought out his scanner after dinner to show it off and the two had ended up working on it. They had stayed up far later than either had planned, though Obi-Wan hadn't realized quite how late it was until Anakin had fallen asleep at the table. Only then had he realized that Ms. Skywalker was already in bed and that they were almost done with the scanner. He carried Anakin to bed and got another hour of work in before he had had to turn in as well. He'd collapsed on the apartment's tiny couch, where Ms. Skywalker had kindly left him a blanket and a pillow.

Stretching out the kinks in his back, Obi-Wan stood up—only to collapse back down immediately when his legs wouldn't hold his weight. He grimaced as they tingled, slowly coming to life now that he wasn't curled up on the tiny piece of furniture anymore. When they woke up completely, he climbed stiffly to his feet.

Passing through the small kitchen on his way to the bathroom, he stopped to look at the scanner on the kitchen table.

"You boys did a lot last night." Turning around, he found himself facing Shmi Skywalker.

"Yes, ma'am, we did," he responded. "The programming is done. Anakin should be able to get the last bit finished tonight."

The woman stared at Obi-Wan searchingly. "You really believe that you can help my son build that part you need in time?" She wasn't talking about the scanner anymore.

"We should finish it by tonight."

Ms. Skywalker stepped back, gripping the top of the scrubbed table. Her knuckles turned white. "So soon?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "I think it has to be. I told Anakin, dangerous people are after us. We need to get to Corsucant as soon as possible. And your son is _good_."

Through the Force, Obi-Wan could feel the bizarre combination of fear-panic-hope that clutched at the woman in front of him. She was so scared, yet so brave, all for the sake of her son. A son who was just as devoted to her as she was to him. Shmi Skywalker closed her eyes, and in an effective imitation of Jedi meditation, she breathed out her worry until she was just left with joyous hope.

"We leave tomorrow," she repeated, a smile creeping across her worn face. She sank down at the table. "I can't believe it's really happening!"

But she wasn't talking to Obi-Wan anymore. Taking his cue, he slipped out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. He cleaned himself up as well as he could in the waterless bathroom and emerged to see that Anakin was up now too and had been set to cleaning up the mess of parts on the table. A small loaf of rough bread was waiting by the toaster for toast next to a small jar of meat drippings for flavor. Ms. Skywalker was pouring juice into three glasses, two of which she set on the table for Anakin and Obi-Wan.

They ate their small breakfasts while Ms. Skywalker kindly packed them a lunch. Both said good-bye to Anakin's mother, Obi-Wan with a firm handshake and Anakin with a tight hug, before setting out through the dusk for the closed shop, Artoo beeping along behind them. Fortunately, the streets were silent, everyone sleeping off their hangovers from the night before.

The boys were tired. They were slow reaching the shop, slow digging out the equipment, and slow getting more work done. Both had stayed up far later than was healthy for the last few nights and were feeling the effects. _It's a good thing we are still in the listless part of sleep deprivation, and not the crabby part_, Obi-Wan reminded himself. _With tempers like ours, we'd be at each other's throats_.

But even a listless-tired Anakin was a snappy Anakin, less patient with the machine and shorter with Obi-Wan. A few times, Obi-Wan just stopped himself from snapping back, but Jedi self-discipline kicked in, despite—or perhaps, because of—the stress and sleep deprivation of the last week.

And slowly, the hyperdrive generator took its final shape. They attached the computer to the frame and began connecting the unending series of wires to the internal power source. There was a tense hour after they discovered that the battery was drained, frantic until Artoo figured out how to recharge it with their limited resources.

Exhausted, they broke for a late lunch. Obi-Wan kept his short, getting back to work after only a few mouthfuls of food. Anakin, stretching his independence, took a bit more time eating, until he accidentally fell asleep over his food.

Knowing how badly Anakin needed the nap, Obi-Wan let him be, even going so far as to fold his cloak under Anakin's head for a pillow. The child slept hard while Obi-Wan made a sizable dent in their workload. The room was peaceful (even Artoo was being quiet) until Obi-Wan dropped the spanner he was using to tighten the computer to the device's exoskeleton. Anakin woke with a loud jolt, scaring Obi-Wan in turn, which upset the generator. The only thing that stopped its inglorious descent to the floor was Obi-Wan's Force reflexes.

For a long moment the room was silent again while Anakin stared in wide-eyed awe at the hovering device.

"Do it again!" But it wasn't said with the child's default arrogance. Instead, it had a tinge of the same reverence Obi-Wan usually heard when Anakin talked about his mom. "Was that the Force you were talking about yesterday? How you put the generator back on the counter? It's so wizard! Why wouldn't you show me that yesterday? And you never did tell me what 'frivolous' means. What's—"

* * *

It took awhile to make sure that the components were all wired in properly and that the casing enclosed the proper gases. At one point, they even started to argue over who got to finish welding the exoskeleton closed. It was long after dark when they finally sealed the contraption shut. With one last scan from Artoo, they were able to pronounce the Nubian hyperdrive generator _finished_.

Obi-Wan ran his hand along the grubby side, fingers catching on the dips and nicks in the recycled metal casing. He smiled at Anakin, pleased with their work. "We did it!"

Anakin frowned back, "Of course we did. I _told_ you we could."

The Padawan raised an eyebrow, unsure if Anakin's comment was born out of humility or arrogance. _Probably both,_ he decided.

"Well, you weren't right about the wiring from the power cells to the computer," Obi-Wan paused to give Anakin a chance to glare at him. "But yes, you were right that we could build the generator." Just as suddenly, Anakin's face morphed into a pleased smile. Obi-Wan waved Anakin over, "Come on. Let's get it on the hovercart."

Once it was safely settled, they covered it with a tarp. Anakin poked it head out the front door, called back the all clear, and the two exited the shop, trailing the cart behind them. Staying out of sight as much as possible, they reached the slave quarters and deposited the generator in Anakin's living room, under Shmi Skywalker's watchful eye. Saying a goodnight to the Skywalker family, and promising to return at dawn the next morning, Obi-Wan slipped out and made his way back to the yacht to report everything in person to his Master and the Queen.

* * *

_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_


	5. Chapter 4

_**The Grandson**__: __**Has it got any sports in it?**_

_**Grandpa**__: __**Are you kidding? Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles...**_

* * *

**Chapter 4 Monsters, Chases, Escapes**

A hand to the shoulder startled her awake, but it was the hand against her mouth that had her grasping for her vibro-shiv.

"Padme!" A voice hissed. "Padme! Calm down."

She recognized that voice….

"It's me, Obi-Wan."

…but what was it doing _here_? And why was there a hand against her mouth? But she trusted Obi-Wan and forced herself to relax. The hand disappeared.

"I am sorry about that." In the darkness, Padme could just see him wiping his hand off on his pant leg. "I did not know how easy it would be to wake you up and I didn't want you to accidentally wake the others." In the silence, his voice was a soft hiss.

And indeed, her handmaidens were still fast asleep around her. They had all bedded down at the center of the ship in the mini-throne room—big enough to train in, private enough to discuss sensitive topics, and quiet enough to sleep in.

Padme rubbed at her eyes and sat up.

"Why are you here?" she asked, a trail of suspicion entering into her voice.

"I thought you might want to go into town again today," he whispered.

"Why are you here?" she repeated, not to be put off.

He was quiet for a moment and his lips pursed. "Something tells me that it is important that you come with me to pick up Anakin and his mother."

Padme eyed the young man speculatively, studying his face, and trying to see what he was getting at—there was a terrifying seriousness, a kind of _knowingness_ in his voice that scared her. But, for some reason, she trusted him.

She nodded. "I'll meet you in the galley in fifteen minutes."

The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked up. He nodded and withdrew from the room with only a whisper of cloth, making Padme very glad that he was on her side. Not one of her highly trained handmaidens stirred throughout the encounter.

That fact changed when she began to creep out of the room herself. Most of them shifted a she tip-toed by, kept asleep only because she _didn't_ step on Tane's hand and _didn't_ fall on Sabe's head when she tripped. But still, she made it out of the room without waking anyone up, heading down the short corridor to the Royal Wardrobe. Despite the vast array of clothing, only the outfit she had donned four days before was non-descript and comfortable enough for Tatooine.

Armed with something to wear, Padme made her way to the fresher—fortunately it was still early and there was no line—and showered, performing her morning ablutions in plenty of time to meet Obi-Wan. She took the time to coil her hair up neatly and to secure it with her throwing dart. Then she headed to the galley. The young man in question was waiting at a table, a small pile of food in front of him, with no sign of the disquiet that he had shown earlier. He gestured to the seat opposite himself and pushed a plate in her direction.

"Thanks," was all Padme said before diving into her own breakfast. It wasn't long before the two were done.

"Ready?" Obi-Wan asked as he put a hand to his belt and double checked his comm unit and lightsabre.

Padme nodded, her own hand checking her blaster and patting the blade in her hair. "Ready."

"Let's go then," Obi-Wan replied, gesturing towards the door.

Padme preceded him out, pausing in the cockpit to let the pilot on duty know that they were leaving the ship to finish their errands in town. They slipped out, into the Tatooine pre-dawn light. It was still early enough that the air was breathable and the ground was still cool from the night before.

Together, the two set off for town. Conversation wound from topic to topic, skittering from favorite movies to favorite books and back again (via a few complaints of the food supplies aboard the cruiser and a short discussion of the merits of carbonated caffeine versus caf), but silence fell between the two friends as they reached the outskirts of the settlement. Inconspicuous in the pre-dawn light, the two made their way to the slave quarters. No one saw them. When they reached the Skywalker residence, the door hissed open moments before they reached it, revealing a tall, worn woman, burned brown in a harsh environment. Her worried eyes slipped behind them, checking for threats, making sure no one had followed. Without a word, Obi-Wan and Padme stepped inside.

The moment the door shut behind them, the tension in Ms. Skywalker relaxed enough to smile, though it was nervous.

"Obi-Wan, it is good to see you again." The two greeted each other politely. "And you must be Padme?" The two women shook hands. "Anakin speaks well of you."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Ms. Skywalker," Padme responded with a smile.

"You as well, Padme. Now, if you two will give me a moment, I'll wake Ani." Shmi bustled around the corner. The young Queen heard the sounds of Ms. Skywalker easing her young son awake. Childish grumbles about getting up early quickly shifted into excitement, and before long, Anakin had launched into the small entry-way where Padme was waiting with Obi-Wan.

"Padme!" Despite the limited space, the child somehow managed to skid to a halt in front of them. His grin was brighter than the pale sunlight peaking through the tiny windows. "Obi-Wan! Are you ready? Mom and I, we're ready. We packed last night." He hefted his bag higher on his shoulders as his mom appeared behind him. "And the scanner? I finished it just like you said I could!"

Excitedly, he led the way into the tiny kitchen. Padme followed behind, feeling awkward in the small space, almost embarrassed. She was the queen of an entire planet, with a palace and guards, space-ships and subjects. These people had _nothing_. Padme's _closet_ was twice the size of their entire kitchen. It gave her a terrible feeling of inadequacy—she hadn't done nearly enough to help those around her, not just on Naboo, but in the rest of the galaxy. She would fight to ensure that her people would not be subject to this fate under the insatiable claws of the Trade Federation.

"Look! I finished the scanner!" Padme watched distantly as Obi-Wan took the scanner from Anakin's eager hands and studied the device for a few minutes, fiddling around with it. His eyes narrowed in concentration and he tugged the long braid that hung behind his ear. Then he nodded.

"Looks to be in order." Obi-Wan shifted his gaze to Ms. Skywalker. "If we get the generator ready to go, we'll find your transmitters and get them out. Then we'll get out of here as fast as we can. A straight shot back to our ship and then into hyperspace."

Vague superstition pricked at Padme. Uncomfortable, she shifted, patting the blade in her hair and scanning the tiny room for anything out of the ordinary.

Ms. Skywalker took a deep, steeling breath before nodding decisively, meeting Obi-Wan's eyes. Padme read the stubbornness and courage in her gaze. "We are ready."

They went to work on Ms. Skywalker first. Anakin had tested the scanner the night before and so knew basically where the implant was. This morning they pinpointed it, hidden sub-dermally on Ms. Skywalker's left shoulder blade. With a paring knife sterilized just for this purpose, Obi-Wan carefully cut out the device, using the Force to prevent it from exploding while it was removed.

The room breathed a sigh of relief when the first surgery was done. Padme carefully placed a bacta patch on the incision, while Obi-Wan carefully bashed in the tiny device, using a judicious combination of the Force and his lightsabre hilt.

Anakin picked up the disabled device, letting it rest on the tip of his pinky. "_This_ is what was going to blow us up?"

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow dryly, "It's not about size; its about precision. Tiny or not, a mechanism like that can pack quite a punch."

"You're turn now, Anakin," Padme broke in, nudging Anakin towards Obi-Wan, who pinpointed Anakin's implant. It was just to the side of his left kneecap. Propping his leg on the kitchen table, Mrs. Skywalker cut the transmitter out of her son's knee. He had barely flinched before the explosive was out of his leg and Padme was setting a bacta patch in place. Obi-Wan destroyed the device while the Skywalkers looked on with excitement.

There a was a moment of stunned quiet, before Padme broke it, "You're free now."

Mrs. Skywalker grinned, and Anakin let out a wild whoop of joy. Mother and son hugged and Padme and Obi-Wan shared a smile, caught up in the Skywalker's excitement. But the moment couldn't last for long.

Obi-Wan broke the moment. "We aren't off planet, yet. We need to get you two to the ship."

In a flurry of movement, the Skywalkers gathered everything up and the small group left out the back door, trailing the semi-stolen hovercart with its semi-stolen goods.

Neither Skywalker looked back.

* * *

Anakin and Padme pulled ahead, generator floating between then. Obi-Wan hung behind with Ms. Skywalker as she paused to lock the door behind her. Together, they made their way down the narrow back steps leading from the ex-Skywalker residence, but when they reached the bottom, she suddenly spoke quietly, "Obi-Wan."

She stopped walking. Puzzled, Obi-Wan stopped too and turned to face her. The stare that met his eyes surprised him; if Obi-Wan hadn't been used to Master Yoda's penetrating gaze, he might have even taken a step back under the sheer force of Ms. Skywalker's stare.

"My son…" she stopped herself, and began again, grabbing Obi-Wan's arm. "If something happens to me, will you make sure he is safe? That he is cared for, somewhere far, far away from here?" Shmi Skywalker, mother of Anakin, tightened her grip on the Jedi Padawan's arm.

Eyes wide, Obi-Wan answered, "Ms. Skywalker, we are going to get the two of you out of here, the ship is waiting just outside of town." He curled the Force around her, soothing. Not to mind-trick—Ms. Skywalker was too strong minded to mind-trick—but an attempt to refocus her on the task at hand, namely, _getting off Tatooine_.

"Obi-Wan. Please. Just tell me. Will you do what you can to keep my son safe?"

"I—"

But Anakin appeared at his elbow, looking at his mother and jerking his thumb over at Padme and the generator. "We need to go!" he hissed, keeping his voice low, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He tugged his mom's arm, but she kept her eyes on Obi-Wan, waiting for his answer.

"Ms. Skywalker. We are going to get you and your son off this planet." Obi-Wan kept his voice firm and confident.

She stepped back, releasing his arm. Through the Force, Obi-Wan could feel her uncertainty, but he didn't know what else to say. He _couldn't_ promise Anakin's safety. He couldn't even promise to _try_ to keep Anakin safe. He was a Jedi. Obi-Wan had no attachments. His life was unstable. His greatest duty was to the Republic and the Force. Obi-Wan wouldn't lie to Ms. Skywalker and say otherwise.

"But Anakin's right. We need to keep going," Obi-Wan continued, diffusing the rest of the moment with as much skill as he possessed.

With a long look, Ms. Skywalker nodded and turned to follow her son.

Obi-Wan let Anakin take point with his mother as they left the slave quarters, knowing that the two knew the area better than he did. He fell to the back, keeping his senses stretched out as far as he could. The wrongness he'd felt since landing on the droid control ship almost a week ago was only getting worse. It felt magnified, _focused_.

But they passed the houses on the edge of town without incident. His skin felt nothing but the glow of early dawn light, he saw nothing except rocks and sand, he smelled nothing except dust and hot metal, he heard nothing but Anakin's voice as he regaled the two women with some anecdote. And yet, every part of Obi-Wan screamed that something was _wrong_. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

His fingers flexed restlessly at his sides. He ran a hand through his spiky hair. Scanning the brightening horizon, he didn't see anything wrong, but the ridge to his right limited visibility. The paranoid part of his brain pointed out that it would make a decent ambush site.

Then it clicked. The paranoid part of his brain wasn't so paranoid after all: his shoulders tensed. _It_ was here. The source of his disquiet, his nerves, his constant discomfort, like a wave the Darkness slammed into him.

_It was here_. It had found them.

"_Everybody down_!" Obi-Wan cried out. He dropped to the sand and pushed the hovering generator away from the threat. The hot sand burned through his clothing and grated his sunburn.

But there was no time to think about it—he had to get himself up and protect his friends from the Darkness that had just, quite literally, dropped over the ridge. Surrounding himself with the Force and focusing his five Human senses, he reached out and took stock of the situation.

The world _slowed_.

As he levered himself up off his stomach, Obi-Wan saw that Padme was safe off to his right, ducking behind a rock, while Anakin was protected by his mother, who had apparently pushed him down. The generator had come to a rest against a large boulder. As Obi-Wan got to his knees, he saw that _dear Force, Ms. Skywalker was dead_ and the thing that killed her was on a speeder and that it was a black, _black_ blur and what was going to happen to Anakin? And as Obi-Wan placed one foot solidly on the ground, he saw that the speeder was coming back and that Anakin was trying to get up, and that Padme was reaching for her blaster. And as Obi-Wan stood up completely and pulled out his lightsabre and ignited it, the Dark Thing was on top of him again and it had a _lightsabre too_.

All in all? _Not good_.

But the Force told him to duck, so Obi-Wan ducked again. The air of the speeder whooshed by, stirring up sand and making it hard to see again. He could feel the red lightsabre as it swished by. But, he'd stuck his own blade out, just in time, and hit the speeder with a glancing blow that knocked it off kilter enough to send the Darksider flying. The force of the blow made Obi-Wan spin and it wrenched brutally at his shoulder, jerking his elbow and pulling the tendons.

The being took control of his fall and spun himself around to land safely on his feet a few meters away, though he stumbled and had to regain his balance. He wore a long cloak that twirled around him in the heat-wind and his face was a zigzagging mess of tattoos. His tunic, his pants, his cloak, all were black—a meager reflection of the Darkness oozing out of him. His eyes were blood-shot gold, vibrant and deadly even from so many feet away.

The black speeder skidded to a halt a short distance away, grinding harshly against the rocks.

Obi-Wan straightened up. Taking advantage of the creature's stumble—it was a Zabrak, Obi-Wan noted, almost absently, filing it away in his brain. Obi-Wan rolled his shoulder, forcing it into mobility, calling on the Force to dull the pain and to lend him strength enough to use it despite the injury. The motion jarred his injured shoulder cruelly. It took effort not to wince and show the weakness.

The Padawan spared a moment to hope Padme would keep her head and comm the ship for backup. The being was immensely strong in the Force, strong in the Dark side, and Obi-Wan was too aware of his own limitations to think he could possibly defeat the being on his own. Worse, his now bum shoulder would just make this fight shorter than it would've been otherwise.

The Darksider's gaze snapped to Padme, to the Skywalkers, to the hovering hyperdrive generator, assessing the risk. But Obi-Wan _would not let that thing near his friends_. Determination grounded him and sent strength into his limbs.

Obi-Wan dashed forward to distract the Darksider from Padme and Anakin, vaulting upwards into a showy flip that was designed to draw attention.

It worked. The Zabrak was there to meet Obi-Wan when he landed, slashing brutally with his red blade. Obi-Wan blocked, using the creature's momentum to spin himself around to attack its other side. The Darksider slipped under Obi-Wan's blade, but Obi-Wan had already shifted, spinning himself between Padme and Anakin and the creature.

They blasted away at each other in a sharp, lengthy series of slashes and stabs, each matching the other blow for vicious blow, even with Obi-Wan's injury. Breaking the pattern, the Darksider feinted to the side, and taking advantage of Obi-Wan's weak shoulder, slashed again, this time skiving a burning line along Obi-Wan's left bicep. Obi-Wan faltered and the being used the opportunity to slash at his head. Obi-Wan ducked and spun to the side, stabbing at the Darksider's rib cage, blowing the pain in his arm out and into the Force. The being parried and Obi-Wan's blade skidded along the end of the Darksider's and nicked the Zabrak's leg through the layers of black cloth.

Again and again, they sliced and hacked at each other, blades zipping through the air like so much lightening.

Slashing again, the sabres connected with a hiss, putting strain on Obi-Wan's injuries. Blades locked, Obi-Wan's clear blue-grey eyes met sickly, red-yellow eyes. Feeling sick at the sight (_eyes shouldn't look like that_), Obi-Wan disengaged and flipped over the Darksider's head, slashing as he did so. The being spun around, parried the blow, and used the force of it to turn Obi-Wan aside. Seeing an opening, he kicked Obi-Wan and sent him flying.

Winded and unable to control his landing, the apprentice landed heavily on a sharp rock. It dug deep into his side sending sharp pains flying from the epicenter in his lower ribcage up into his head. He sensed the Darksider's mocking approach, heard the red lightsabre twang through the hot air.

Blaster fire rang out, slicing towards the creature in black. Without turning around, the Darksider flipped his lightsabre up and caught the bolts, sending them harmlessly into the desert. Unable to breath, barely able to think, Obi-Wan struggled to his feet. The being continued to advance. Planting himself firmly in Force, Obi-Wan stabilized his stance and rubbed his thumb along the hilt of his blade, ignoring the burn in his shoulder and the thrum in his ribs, the scream in his shoulder. He blinked sweat out of his eyes and focused them on the creature that had clearly decided to toy with him.

More blaster shots. They were easily flicked off into space, though this time the Darksider sent a glare in Padme's direction. Adamant that the Darksider would not attack his companions, Obi-Wan again attacked, feinting towards the creature's injured leg, before slashing at the opposite shoulder, trying to take advantage of his preoccupation with Padme. The being barely stopped the blow from singeing his collar bone.

The Darksider spun down and away from Obi-Wan's blade, slashing at the apprentice's feet. Obi-Wan leapt over the red blur, cringing painfully in the face of his injured ribs and shoulder. By this point, he was breathing heavily—he'd damaged something important when he'd gone flying. Controlling himself, Obi-Wan brought his blade up to strike at the being's neck. Again, the Zabrak dodged, forcing Obi-Wan to correct his momentum and send the creature back upwards, which again, strained his ribs. The Darksider met his lightsabre, danced around it, and then flicked his red blade downwards, forcing Obi-Wan to bend a little to meet it. When the red sabre jumped back upwards, Obi-Wan managed to parry the blade, but not the vicious kick to his injured side.

Again, knocked to the floor, Obi-Wan forced himself to leap up, despite the fact that it made his vision flicker and he couldn't breathe. However, he was unable to block the next double blow—a two part slash that burned the right side of his chest and his left shoulder—followed up immediately by a harsh hit to the head with a lightsabre hilt.

The suns winked out.

_Oh, shit._

Darkness.

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_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_ (thank you.)


	6. Chapter 5

**AN. I'm so sorry! Especially since I know I left you with a semi-cliff hanger. I meant to get this up last weekend, but it wasn't finished, I'd rather get something good up than something just 'eh.' Thank you for your patience :D **

To all of my anonymous reviewers: THANK YOU! Your support means a lot, even if I can't PM you personally!

Novelreader: You've left me a few reviews (thank you!) and I've tried to respond, but it seems you've disabled your PM capabilities, so I haven't been able to get back to you. But you're right, no Threepio. There was no way for him to join in the escape, though there is a reference to him earlier in the story. And yes, Obi-Wan cursed. Although it's out of character for grown-up Master Obi-Wan to curse, I think twenty-something Obi-Wan might curse in his head after failing to protect his friends.

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"_**It is difficult, when faced with a situation you cannot control, to **_

_**admit you can do nothing." — **__**Lemony Snicket**_

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**Chapter 5 A Journey in the Dark**

"_Everybody down_!"

Obi-Wan's voice flew out over the droning desert. Drilled in taking orders from that tone of voice, Padme immediately dropped to the floor, hitting the burning sand with a painful thwump. She missed hitting her head on a rather hefty looking rock by mere centimeters. There was an explosion of disorienting sound above her head. It faded off to the right before wheeling and coming back with a renewed roar.

The speeder crashed with a terrible screech, jolting Padme out of her stupor. Padme rolled over to get a look at what was going on, coughing on the dusty air. Obi-Wan had his back to her, blue lightsabre out and humming confidently in front of him. An imposing figure stood opposite him, blazing black despite the heat and the light of Tatooine.

A shiver whispered down Padme's back at the sight.

Anakin and Ms. Skywalker were a few feet from her, splayed out to her right. Through the dust it was hard to tell if they were alright.

She scrambled for the blaster stuck under her jacket, until the harsh noise of the battle pulled her from her controlled panic. She glanced up and saw that Obi-Wan and the man in black were in close, trading brutal blows. Common sense kicked in and the Queen realized a blaster would be useless so long as the two 'sabre wielders were locked in such tight formation

_Her comm_. She couldn't fight, but she could call for backup! Shifting to her side, the young woman from Naboo scrabbled for the comm unit in that pocket, fumbling with the tiny device, trying to still her shaking hands so that she could flip the device on properly. It snapped alive in her fingers and she waited desperately for a voice on the other end, her attention divided between the snap-hiss of the lightsabre battle in front of her and the silent static from the comm.

Her stomach clenched. _Where's the pilot…where's the pilot…where's the pilot…_

"Ollie here." Her whole body relaxed at the sound of another voice, a familiar voice, coming from the unit.

"Ric! Its Padme, we need backup!" Grateful for her diplomatic training, the handmaiden kept her voice clear and low, knowing that haste would only slow down any rescue operation. It didn't stop her hands from shivering, though. She kept her eyes on the battle in front of her, watching Obi-Wan flip and whirl around the man in black. Her free hand finally grasped her blaster. That hand went steady.

"Ric, trace this signal—we're being attacked by a being who is very skilled with a lightsabre. We need backup. Now."

The pilot responded something in the affirmative, Padme couldn't tell what. She didn't _care_, as long as they were coming. Now that she had made the call, there was nothing more she could do for Obi-Wan.

Time to see what she could do for Anakin and Ms. Skywalker.

Tearing her eyes away from the dust and flashing light of the battle in front of her, she searched out Anakin and his mother, who were still lying where they had fallen moments before. Concerned, Padme levered herself off of the stinging sand and scuttled towards the mother and her son.

When she got close enough to them, some desperate part of her wished she hadn't moved. _Ms. Skywalker was dead_. She lay, twisted brutally on the sand, back bent at a severe angle, her head bloodied shiny red on a dull brown rock. Anakin sat next to her, hands moving around as though he could piece her back together. His empty gaze met Padme's, sharp as betrayal. His face was white under its tan.

Desperate to ease the loss, Padme darted forward, accidently dropping the communicator in her haste (but not her blaster, she kept a firm, steady grip on that) and scooped Anakin up into her arms, twisting him around, away from the battle, away from his mother's body. He resisted for a moment, just a moment, before he buried himself in her arms, shivering violently. Padme felt her eyes water up as the boy clutched at her waist, but she forced herself to shake the tears out. She had to keep an eye on Obi-Wan. She steadied her blaster and kept an eye on the battle over Anakin's head.

Anakin's voice shuddered into her stomach, "Padme! Padme, she's dead, my mom, she can't be…Padme…"

The Queen's heart broke.

"Padme! She pushed me down! The speeder, the speeder flew right on top of us…and she pushed me down…Padme, is that why she got hurt? 'Cause she helped me?"

"Anakin, I, of course it wasn't—"

But there was nothing she could say. Not really. She resolutely kept her eyes from drifting back down to the tragic sight at Anakin's feet.

Instead, she focused in front of her. She watched Obi-Wan took a hit that sent him flying. The fall winded him, kept him down long enough for the man in black to stalk closer. He raised his lightsabre for a kill blow as Obi-Wan struggled to regain his breath. Padme took advantage of the opportunity, firing off a series of well aimed shots at the creature's back.

Not one of them hit.

Faster than light, the man in black flicked his red blade around and sent each and every one of them hissing into the sand.

But the volley made the man in black pause just long enough to allow Obi-Wan to breathe and regain his focus. Obi-Wan leapt forward, engaging his opponent, taking advantage of the opening. Padme desperately hoped that the ship got there soon. Although both duelists were obviously tiring, Obi-Wan was taking the brunt of it, favoring his right shoulder so much that even she could see it; it was only through sheer determination and stubbornness that he kept fighting.

_Come on come on come on_.

The dull roar of a spacecraft at low altitude filled the air and kicked up sand. _Come on come on come on_….

Obi-Wan fell a second time. Acting on some instinct, Padme dropped her blaster into the sand at Anakin's feet, and reached for the blade hidden in her hair. Obi-Wan got back up and reengaged. Padme pulled her hand away, dart held loose and ready in her hand. Padme shifted out of Anakin's grasp. The creature tossed Obi-Wan down a third time. Sand went flying as the Nubian cruiser closed in. Obi-Wan wasn't getting back up. _He's not moving at all_, Padme realized.

The man in black's eyes flicked to the ship, and then back down at the prone man near his feet, before he raising his arms for a two-handed kill.

Anakin shouted in protest.

Fluidly, Padme let loose the old-style dart from her hand.

The man in black's arms descended towards Obi-Wan's chest.

The silent, dark blade nailed the Zabrak in the shoulder, causing him to stumble forward.

His lightsabre hissed down next to Obi-Wan's head, melting the sand next to the Jedi's face.

The cruiser landed and the ramp hissed down. Fine sand billowed into the air. Cries of anger rang out, followed by a series of blaster shots.

Forced to deflect the bolts, the Zabrak decided that he no longer had the chance to kill Obi-Wan. The man in black leapt over Obi-Wan's prone body towards his crashed speeder. With a flick of his wrist, the motorbike was jerked upright as if on a line and pulled towards him. His black cloak glistened in the sunlight as his blood soaked through the material. Leaping astride his bike, he fled into the desert, dodging a hail of blaster shots. He abruptly disappeared from sight when he dropped over the edge of the ridge.

The echo of his bike was quickly lost in the hum of the Nubian engines.

Relief made Padme weak. She reached down and scooped the distraught Anakin into another hug. He clung to her desperately, grabbing handfuls of her tunic into his fists. She heard footsteps all around her, voices shouting and worried. She buried her face in Anakin's yellow hair, hiding from the attack, from her responsibilities as Queen, the knowledge that her planet was under invasion, from Ms. Skywalker's death and her role in it, Anakin's pain, Obi-Wan—

Around her, voices blurred together: _what happened here—milady—who is this?—someone grab the generator, we need to get it installed—get the medics—he's going into shock—we need ice packs—Padme!—check the child, is he ok?—Padme!_

Slowly, one voice penetrated the panic driven fog in the Queen's mind. The voice was sharp and demanding, expecting things from the Queen of Naboo and not from a terrified child.

"Padme! _Padme_! What happened?"

Recognizing the voice of her security chief, she pulled her head away from Anakin's. Her eyes skittered over Shmi's body as they made their way up to Captain Panaka's face. The reminder that all of this was _real_ was almost enough to send her back into hiding, but she refused to back down. She met Panaka's eyes as squarely as if her entire body wasn't shivering, shoving the panic back, forcing herself to _think_ and to _act_.

"Obi-Wan? He is ok? Is he still alive?" she inquired, eyes darting over to where her few med-trained staff were clustering around Obi-Wan's still form.

"Yes. The staff is working to stabilize him right now," the Captain replied. His eyes darted around the scene. Padme nodded, relieved but not comforted. "But, milady, we need to know what happened."

"We were ambushed." She tilted her head towards the ridge where the man in black had disappeared. "That…_thing_, it dropped out of the sky. Ran us over. I think…I think he knocked Mrs. Skywalker over." Anakin's body shuddered convulsively against Padme.

"The impact broke her back," a voice interrupted. Padme jumped in surprise. It was the Jedi master. He was kneeling over Mrs. Skywalker's body, studying it. Padme hadn't noticed his approach, but then she hadn't been paying much attention.

"She died before her head even hit the rock." Master Jinn's words were impartial, clinical, but he glanced at Anakin with pity before levering himself off the ground. "She died almost instantly." There was a sympathetic pause. "Here, this way. Out of the sun," Master Jinn suggested, gesturing towards the shade of the Nubian.

Padme was grateful for the move. Anakin didn't seem to notice.

"Now, what happened next?" the giant man prompted Padme to continue her narrative.

"The man in black came back and Obi—Padawan Kenobi," she corrected herself, "confronted him. They fought. That's when I called for backup." She gulped before continuing, giving a brief but accurate account of the fight.

But the Jedi master was not satisfied. He continued to grill Padme, taking over the interrogation from Captain Panaka, asking her questions about the duel and the man in black. She answered them as best she could, but her eyes kept straying behind the Jedi Master, flicking from Obi-Wan's wounded body and the people working to stabilize him to the mechanic shifting the hyperdrive generator into the ship. She felt exposed and open on the surface of this inhospitable planet, guilty that her crusade to save her planet had gotten Ms. Skywalker killed, nervous under the complete focus of the intense Jedi master.

Finally, Master Jinn was done with his questioning. Padme didn't know if it was because he was finally satisfied with her answers or because he realized that she had already told him all she knew. She was just relieved that the interview was over. Master Jinn excused himself to check on his Padawan. Heartsick, Padme watched as the scene until Sabe came and ushered her and Anakin into the ship.

* * *

They gave his mom a spacer's funeral.

They laid her out in the airlock, laid out all pretty in a bright red dress. It reminded Anakin of the blood that had stuck in her hair after she fell, of the blood that still stained his old clothes. They washed her hair, combed it out. Despite the almost waxy cast of her features, she looked pretty. It made his heart _burn_ to know that his mom would only ever look this pretty when she was _dead_.

They did it on the aft airlock, where there was a small room in front of it, just big enough to cram the entire ship's population. Padme made him stand up front, by the airlock, where everyone could see him. Normally, he would've loved the attention, but right now, he didn't even notice. But she said that's where he had to stand 'cause it was his mom and that was the Proper thing to do. Still, Padme stayed with him.

They said it _had_ to be a spacer's burial. That they couldn't afford to stay on Tatooine 'cause that thing might come back and attack again. That they couldn't take her with them to Coruscant because they had nowhere to keep the body, 'cause they said needed the stasis pod to keep Obi-Wan alive and the cooling unit for their food supplies.

Padme said everyone on the ship was there to pay their respects. Except everyone _wasn't_ there. _Obi-Wan_ wasn't there. Obi-Wan was hurt bad and stuck in stasis, all because he'd tried to do what Anakin had been too scared to do—_protect his mom_.

Tears filled his eyes and splashed down his cheeks. He kept it quiet though. He had learned how to cry silently when he was little. Safer that way. But the tears burned down his hot cheeks, stinging his eyes and skin like the Tatooine suns at noon.

Someone started talking. Through the watery blur, the child couldn't see who it was, but they talked about his mom, saying things about her, about death, about stars and space and endings and peace and freedom.

_What did they know?_ he thought bitterly._ It wasn't supposed to be an ending! It was a beginning! Mom had been so close!_ he raged. _So close._ So close to freedom—to _real_ freedom—that Anakin almost choked on the wrongness, on the _unfairness_ of it all.

Distantly, he heard the speaker call for a moment of silence. The engines hummed in the quiet. The airlock door hissed. Anakin's head shot up, eyes wide in panic.

The airlock was _closing,_ shutting away his mother, taking her away. Anakin lurched forward with a cry, trying to get to his mom before it shut her away completely—

Arms grabbed him. Stopped him. Held him back. Padme, wrapped in red and yellow like the rest, she stopped him with a hug, kept him away from the doors.

Keeping him away from his mom.

Or what was left of her.

The door shut with a click and a pneumatic hiss. A low klaxon warning sounded. Then, suddenly, it all went quiet for a long moment before everyone began leaving, talking in quiet tones.

And that was it. His mom was gone forever. Blown out like a candle 'cause he'd been too weak to keep her safe.

Anakin felt cold, inside and out.

He didn't know who it was, but someone gave him something to eat. He ate out of habit, with the self-preservation instincts of a slave who knew what hunger was like, but he didn't taste the food or see who was around him. When he was finished, someone else showed him his bunk. He changed into the clothes someone had left for him, even though they were too big.

Night cycle started. The sounds of the ship's company slowly faded into a hymn led by the engines.

Anakin curled up, tried to sleep, but it was _cold_ and he _hurt_ and there was sense of aloneness in his head that made him want to run and run and _run_.

Putting on his shoes, Anakin got up. Restless, he left the room and wandered into the hallway. He meandered past the galley and the 'fresher, poked his head into a few rooms, but there was nothing interesting in any of them.

Then, he found the medbay.

The room itself was tiny, white and sterile, with machines set into the walls, all connected to the bed that rested on the far side of the room. Obi-Wan was in the stasis pod, hooked up to a bunch of quietly humming machinery. Anakin tried not to look at his friend, but it was impossible to ignore his presence. A sense of _Obi-Wan-ness_ filled the room, bright and bold, despite the fact the man _looked_ as dead as Mom looked.

Anakin shivered despite the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Anakin stepped just inside the door. The lights rose a bit, from a pre-dawn glow to a bright dusk. Darker than the corridor, though. It meant he couldn't see Obi-Wan, which was fine. This way, he could pretend they were still on Tatooine working on the hyperdrive. As long as he couldn't see Obi-Wan, Anakin didn't have to remember that the man wasn't really there. He crept into the room until he was near the stasis pod. He sat down, back to the base of the machine, huddled inside the blanket he'd grabbed from his bunk.

Something made his heart twist, and rage swirled in Anakin's gut in response to his helplessness. His fists tightened against his pants, knuckles going white. His mother was _dead_ and _gone_ and _Obi-Wan_ was almost _gone_ too and Padme was worried and _busy_ and they were still days away from Coruscant and there was _nothing he could do_.

_Leaving Tatooine was supposed to fix everything! It was supposed to make everything better! _Anakin raged. The _thing_ had happened. It had shown him the choices and it had never been wrong _before_ but now his mom was _dead_. He had chosen to help these people and to leave Tatooine and now it was all his fault his mom was gone.

She was _dead_.

And it was his fault.

His fault and that _creature's_ fault.

Anakin would _never_ be able to pay for what he had done, but making that _thing_ pay would help, right? It would _have_ to help. He thumped his hand hard against the base of Obi-Wan's bed, the pain that radiated from his knuckles totally submersed under the pain in his chest.

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	7. Chapter 6

"_**But over all things brooding slept  
The quiet sense of something lost."  
- Tennyson**_

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**Chapter 6 Coruscant**

Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, surveying his recovering Padawan, and basking in the bright glow of his Force-presence. It was the second time Obi-Wan had been awake since his ordeal on Tatooine. After a few hours in the Temple surgery and several more in a bacta tank, he had woken the night before: cogent enough to give a report on the Darksider, but still weak and woozy; stuck on his back but too tired to care.

But a full night's sleep seemed to have done wonders for the young man. This morning, Qui-Gon found him awake enough to read and strong enough to sit upright (though he was propped up on a big pile of pillows). The light had returned to the young man's eyes and his skin was regaining its normal color (fortunately, the bacta had also healed his sunburns). Obi-Wan's Force signature, which Qui-Gon had barely been able to sense in the Nubian's medbay (even through their bond it had been faint and fuzzy), was strong and _bright_ once more.

Qui-Gon thanked the Force that Obi-Wan was at least physically on the mend. Internal bleeding, several fractured bones (and two broken ribs), as well as a multitude of lacerations and bruises were nothing to scoff at on the Outer Rim. They had been parsecs away from a decent med center, even without the assassin on their trail. If it hadn't been for that stasis pod on the Nubian ship, Obi-Wan would be dead right now.

"What did the Council say?" Obi-Wan asked without looking up from his book.

"Who said anything about the Council?" Qui-Gon asked with a slightly raised eyebrow, bringing his attention to the present.

The younger Jedi looked up, quirking his lips with mischief. "You only tense up after a meeting with the full Council. And you are only _this_ tense when you disagree with them on something."

Qui-Gon tilted his head in acknowledgement of his Padawan's logic, before entering the room fully. The automatic door whizzed shut behind him, closing out the sounds of rushing Healers and other patients. He made his way over to the comfortable chair that had been dragged to the side of Obi-Wan's bed the night before and relaxed into it. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, idly wondering why all hospital chairs were so small.

"I told you last night that the Queen had brought her plea to the Senate?"

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, evidently digging through his slightly drug-hazy memories from the previous evening when he had given his report.

"You said that they moved for a vote of no confidence."

Qui-Gon nodded, "Which has lengthened the already considerable delay. Therefore, the Queen has decided that she must return to Naboo herself."

"But that's suicide!" Obi-Wan protested, sitting up fully in his bed. "The Federation will be waiting for her; she will be forced to sign their treaty!"

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his Padawan's emotional response. He hadn't realized that Obi-Wan had bonded quite so much with the Naboo delegation, though some of the force of the response was probably a result of the painkillers. It took a moment for Obi-Wan to subside back down and settle back into the bed, his temper back under control. The master felt his apprentice release his emotions to the Force. When his apprentice was calmer, the Jedi Master continued.

"Which is why the Council thinks it prudent to send me back with the delegation. Especially in light of the Force sensitive you battled on Tatooine."

"And I will not be accompanying you," Obi-Wan frowned.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "We leave tomorrow morning."

"And I am not allowed out of here until tomorrow afternoon—and I still have two weeks of physical therapy after that."

Qui-Gon was almost as unhappy about that fact as Obi-Wan was. He regretted having to leave his still-injured Padawan, especially while he was still so on edge about his failure to stop the Darksider on Tatooine. The fact that one of his companions had died at the time just added to Obi-Wan's self-imposed burden.

But the very fact that Obi-Wan had lost to the Darksider was a cause for Qui-Gon's concern. Obi-Wan was an advanced swordsman and would be a master of the art in the future. Qui-Gon was not comfortable with the thought of facing this creature on his own.

But it was both the will of the Force and the order of the Council that he return to Naboo. No matter how much he wished to stay, he wouldn't.

The silence stretched out as both men sank into their thoughts. Finally, it was Qui-Gon who broke it.

"There's something else, Padawan."

"There's _always_ something else, Master," Obi-Wan responded drily.

"Yes, well, I believe you will not find this one as unpleasant as most _something else's_ are."

"Promising."

Qui-Gon hid a smirk.

"It's about Anakin."

Obi-Wan froze. "What about him?" Qui-Gon watched him closely, noting the deep frown that creased the usually calm face and how he shifted deeper into his pillows. Hiding.

"You recall last night, when I told you that the Queen offered to take Anakin as a Ward of Naboo?"

Obi-Wan nodded, sensing there was something else involved.

"The Queen believes, and I agree, that the boy cannot go to Naboo yet. That kind of fighting so close to the death of his mother on top of the actual, physical danger…."

Qui-Gon watched the realization dawn on his Padawan's face before it shuddered closed. "You want him to stay here with me. You want me to keep an eye on him."

The graying head tipped in acquiescence. "Only until the Queen stabilizes the planet. Then, he will be escorted to Naboo."

"That seems…sensible. But," Obi-Wan's face settled into its diplomat facade. "Anakin's mother was just murdered. I am not sure I'm the most qualified person to keep an eye on a grieving, hyper-active, hyper-intelligent child. Especially not now," he added, gesturing to his still recovering body.

Qui-Gon knew that those objections weren't the root of Obi-Wan's concern, but they were the easiest parts to address. The real problem, Obi-Wan's overwhelming sense of failure and guilt, would be best addressed by Anakin himself.

The plan to have Anakin stay with Obi-Wan wasn't just for Anakin's sake.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said sternly. "If I had any doubts about your ability to take care of this pathetic life form, I would not suggest leaving him under your care."

Obi-Wan pursed his lips but stayed silent, his eyes averted.

The Jedi Master continued, shifting into his lecture mode, "You tutor a number of Initiates and Junior Padawans in various subjects, and they all greatly respect you. Most importantly, you are the only person, other than Padme, that Anakin trusts. Of those two, you are the only one available."

Obi-Wan stared at the blanket that covered his legs, clearly resisting the urge to pick at the pills that dotted it.

"What does Anakin say about it?"

"He has not been told the specifics yet. But considering how often the Queen says he has been begging to come visit you, I doubt he would have a problem." In reality, the Naboo had told him that Anakin had hardly spoken since his arrival on Coruscant, but Obi-Wan didn't need to know that.

"And the Council doesn't object?"

"What the Council doesn't know won't hurt them," he said offhandedly.

"Master!"

The Force danced with Qui-Gon's amusement over his Padawan's rule abiding habits. "I'm kidding, Obi-Wan. I spoke with both Mace and Master Yoda. We have off-the-record permission for you to keep an eye on him until Naboo is reclaimed."

"It sounds like you plan to leave him here no matter what I say," Obi-Wan replied, mock despair coating his words.

"I knew you'd agree, Padawan!" Qui-Gon said, leaning forward slightly and patting Obi-Wan's forearm.

Only years of Jedi training kept Obi-Wan from giving in to the juvenile impulse to stick his tongue out at his master.

* * *

The dreams were always the same: he was tumbling and falling, watching the sky flip down under the rising sand. Feeling his mom's weight on his back, feeling her ragged exhale—and never feeling her inhale. He relived that moment every night on the trip to Coruscant.

Sometimes he dreamed about the Blackness that rolled off the man in the desert or the terrified look on his mother's dead face. Sometimes, he dreamed when he was awake, sitting on the floor of the med-bay or standing next to the pilot's chair in the cockpit. He would feel himself faze out. Sometimes he'd come back holding back a shout. Other times he would have tears on his face and his eyes would burn like there was sand in them.

It was happening right now. He _knew_ he was on his way to the Jedi Temple, but he could _taste_ the sand, _feel_ his mother's last breath, _smell_ the fear.

He didn't snap out of it until the air-taxi jolted to a stop beneath him.

"Anakin? Come on, kid, we're here."

He let the air out of his lungs with a puff—he hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath. He bottled up the rage-sorrow in his throat, letting it settle back in his stomach.

Anakin turned to face handmaiden and nodded at her. Her name was Ninte, and she was nice, even if she was bossy. The two climbed out of the air-taxi. While Ninte talked to the driver and asked him to wait, Anakin opened the trunk and began to wrestle his new suitcase out. He didn't make much headway by himself 'cause it was _really_ heavy (Padme's friends liked clothes a lot), but Ninte appeared over his shoulder. Between the two of them, they managed to lever it out. Anakin took one end, Ninte held the other. The slight exertion pulled him entirely out of his dream.

Suddenly aware of his surroundings, Anakin paused to see where he was. Not that it was hard to figure out—the _ginormous_ Temple was impossible to miss. Bigger than the entire settlement back home, grander than the embassy where Padme was staying, the Temple soared up and _up_. Anakin's feet wouldn't move as his eyes traced the structure, glinting in the late morning sun.

"Anakin!" Ninte chided, breaking him from his thoughts. She had a smile on her face though. "Come on! I know it's huge, but you'll have plenty of time to explore with Padawan Kenobi while you're here. We need to keep going."

Anakin nodded, snapping his mouth closed. He followed his escort across the Temple Plaza, dodging gawking tourists. Instead of heading towards the enormous main gate, Ninte tugged Anakin off to the side, towards a much smaller door that was discretely situated behind a column.

"Master Jinn told us to use this door," she explained. She set down her end of the suitcase and activated the intercom. It buzzed. "I come on behalf of the Naboo embassy. I am here to leave Anakin Skywalker in the care of Padawan Kenobi."

There was a long pause. Anakin worried that they had come to the wrong place until a pleasant voice answered, "Of course! We've been expecting you, indeed! One moment…" The door unlocked. Ninte took up her end of the case and nudged the door open. Anakin warily followed her inside.

It was dim inside and it took a moment for Anakin's eyes to adjust from glitter of the street. Slowly, a wide humanoid came into view, dressed in the same kind of weird clothes that Obi-Wan wore.

"I am Ninte Acapia. This is Anakin Skywalker."

"A pleasure to meet both of you, indeed, it is. I am known as Master Aln," the stranger introduced himself.

Anakin took an instinctive step back at the title, though neither of his companions seemed to notice.

Master Aln continued, "Will you be accompanying your charge, Miss Acapia, to his destination? Padawan Kenobi is still in in the Halls of Healing."

Ninte frowned, setting down her end of the suitcase. "Thank you, Master Aln, but I'm afraid I can't stay." She turned to Anakin, resting an apologetic hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Anakin, but I'm running late already. The Queen is waiting for me. Will you be alright by yourself?"

Anakin didn't understand why people asked for his opinion when they had already decided what they were going to do.

"I'll be alright." His voice felt scratchy, but it was enough to draw a wan smile from the handmaiden.

Hugging him, she replied, "Be safe, Anakin. And I will see you when Naboo is safe!" She ruffled his hair, nodded politely at the Jedi, and disappeared into the glittery sunlight before Anakin could even begin to say goodbye.

He stared after her, fear burbling quietly in his stomach. _I wish I could stay with Padme and her friends. They were nice and they took care of me after—After. And now they're going away and leaving me, leaving me all alone, leaving me behind just like Mo—_

"Well, youngling…" Aln abruptly interrupted Anakin's thoughts. "Let's leave your bag here, shall we? One of the Padawans will make sure that it gets up to young Kenobi's apartment. Follow me, right this way, and I'll take you to the Halls of Healing."

Anakin hesitated. He was uncomfortable leaving his stuff with strangers, but the suitcase was too heavy to carry by himself. Reluctantly, he opened the case (making sure to hide the contents from Master Aln) and removed the small bag he'd packed way back Tatooine. It contained all his _real_ important things. Swinging it over his shoulder, he left the larger suitcase where the Jedi indicated.

Master Aln gestured again. Reluctantly, Anakin followed him deeper into the unknown.

The Temple was just as big inside as it was outside, bright with lots of windows and a mess of confusing doors and corridors. They passed a number of Jedi. None of them said more than a polite greeting to Anakin and his guide, though a few of the younger ones paused to bow. Anakin was torn between discomfort and jealousy-he wanted people to think _he_ was powerful, he wanted people bowing to _him_—

_Maybe if I get strong like that, I can make sure Padme and Obi-Wan and people don't die like...like Mom again. Maybe I can stop the man-in-black from hurting people again, make him hurt like he hurt me..._

The thought carried him to the Halls of Healing. Anakin observed his new surroundings skeptically. It was just a large white space, shot through with sterile walls and anchored by cluttered desk set in the middle of the branched network of corridors. Aln made a bee-line for the desk. Anakin hung back. The whole area felt clean in a way he had never felt before, clean and orderly. It was kind of uncomfortable.

A hand descended on his shoulder, making Anakin jump out of his skin and as far away from the surprise contact as possible. He didn't like being touched by strangers. With almost comical slowness, Master Aln's serene face melted into a frown at the reaction.

"I am sorry, young Anakin. Indeed, I did not intend to frighten you so."

Anakin gave a tight nod. Unease granted him boldness. "Do ya know where Obi-Wan is then?" he demanded.

"_Padawan_ Kenobi?" the emphasis on the title was not subtle. "Indeed. He is just down this hallway, second door on the left—"

The child didn't wait to hear any more—_better to ask forgiveness than permission_—he darted off to the destination by himself, hoping Aln _wouldn't_ follow.

With only a rough education, Anakin could just sound out the Basic alphabet enough to verify that the second door on the left was indeed Obi-Wan Kenobi's. But then, his boldness deserted him.

_What if Obi-Wan isn't getting better like he's supposed to? What if he is angry at me for not being strong enough during the fight? Worse, what if he is disappointed or—_

* * *

He had said goodbye to his master earlier that morning, before Qui-Gon had left for the Naboo embassy. The man had stopped by Obi-Wan's infirmary room, mug of morning tea still in hand, for their usual brusque goodbye routine.

Both men were fairly reserved by nature, so though sincere in their sentiments, their goodbyes not sentimental. Besides, they had undergone numerous of leave takings over the last ten years. When Obi-Wan had been younger, his master had left alone to take care of some of the more particular missions, and, more recently, it had been Obi-Wan who had been going off, heading out on solo missions to prepare for his upcoming Trials.

And as a Human male in his twenties, Obi-Wan looked forward to being without his Master's constant presence. It was unbelievably nice to have an opportunity, however brief, to exercise his own judgment.

Which was why, instead of working on his assigned reading, he was currently reading a novel for fun. In fact, he was just getting to the part where the adventurer got shipwrecked on a deserted planet when he felt a tug from the Force; there was a small yet potent disruption outside of his door.

Obi-Wan frowned. The Force-signature was a water-blurred image of the bold signature he'd seen on Tatooine, but it was recognizable.

_Anakin_.

_I'm not prepared for this! I don't know how to care for someone like Anakin—this is going to end badly. Why is he so hesitant to come in? Does he blame me for getting is mother killed? How long has been standing there? What's wrong? Just open the door and find out. Open the door!  
_

With a deep breath and a flick of the Force, the door swooshed open, revealing a pale and weary version of the Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan had seen (from his point of view) only two days ago.

From Anakin's point of view, it had been over week.

From the bags under the child's eyes and the pale cast under his tan, it looked like it had been longer. Much longer.

There was a long pause. The door closed by itself.

"You don't look too good," was the first thing out of Anakin's mouth.

"Hello to you too, Anakin." Jedi's voice was dry, but his heart was lightened at the fact that even a grieving Anakin was still _Anakin_.

Anakin who had again missed the sarcasm."I thought they were supposed to be making you _better_ here? 'cause you really don't look good."

"They're healers. They make you feel _worse_."

Anakin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "The one who came and saw me yesterday was nice. She gave me candy."

Silence threatened to settle. Unlike the ones that kept them company on Tatooine, this one was awkward, laced with all of the things they wanted to avoid. To keep the silence at bay, Obi-Wan launched into a conversation about nothing, working to draw Anakin out of his shell. It was difficult though. Anakin was darker and more reluctant to talk than he'd been in the junk shop, and there were important topics to avoid, like Ms. Skywalker and Naboo.

Still, Obi-Wan's years as a diplomat were not wasted and he skillfully kept the silence at bay all morning. Healers bustled in and out of the room, conducting last minute tests. One of the younger healers brought them lunch. There were a few _more_ last minute checks after lunch followed by a long lecture on taking care of the wounds and following the healers instructions. But that was it. Armed with his new physical therapy schedule, Obi-Wan was set free.

He was looking forward to a quiet walk to his apartment followed by a nice shower.

The walk was not quiet. Anakin, in his typical unpredictable way, suddenly found his voice. Now that he had a guide he was comfortable with, he began to poke into corners, open doors, and ask questions that he only half wanted answers to. Anakin's curiosity was insatiable. With his sore leg and injured ribs, it was almost impossible to herd the child along.

Finally, they reached the corridor where the Jinn/Kenobi residence was situated. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. Anakin took off running down the hallway, searching for the right apartment. His small pack thunked against his back.

Obi-Wan was too tired to chide Anakin for running indoors. He also didn't think it would work even if he tried.

"Wizard! I found it!" Anakin shouted. Then he paused. "It's right here, isn't it?" he called down the hallway.

Obi-Wan waited until he was slightly closer to his friend. "It was never lost. And no shouting! Master Kwon next door is nocturnal…which means he's trying to sleep right now," he added, seeing Anakin's confused face. "You'll wake him up if you're too loud. And, you _can_ go in you know."

"It's not locked?"

Obi-Wan frowned. "Not many apartments are locked in the Temple." He waved his hand at the door mechanism. "Go ahead, open it up," he added as he caught up to his spry companion.

Eager, Anakin swiped the sensor and darted through the door before it had opened properly.

"This is so wizard!"

Obi-Wan peeked through the open doorway in time to see Anakin disappear into the kitchen for a moment and then pop back out.

"You actually live here?" he paused just long enough to ask before returning to his exploration. Obi-Wan followed him into the apartment.

"Yes. Me and my master. It's pretty small, just the kitchen, the living room, bedrooms down the hallway…" Obi-Wan gestured towards each room in turn, "the bathroom and the balcony. 's not much." _But its home._

"Does your shower use water? Padme's used water. I'd never seen a shower like that before…."

Carefully, the Jedi eased himself onto his favorite corner on the couch, mindful of his injuries. Breath hissed out as his stressed muscles relaxed. Out of the way, he let Anakin explore the small space. He settled in to think, letting the child's rambling commentary wash over him.

"This place is so wizard! I mean, Padme's apartment was _way_ fancier and stuff, but I think I like this one better…"

_What are we going to eat for dinner tonight? I don't feel like going to the cafeteria tonight and having to explain Anakin. I hope there's food in the cupboards…is Anakin allergic to anything? What if I feed him something he's allergic to?_

"…is this a cleaning droid? Oooo! What if we…"

_And what if Anakin gets sick?_

"...do you think we can…."

_He doesn't look very healthy. Is he already sick? What do I do if he's sick? Just call a Healer? He did say that he saw a doctor yesterday. Did the Naboo notice something? Or was it just a check-up?_

"…why do you have so many books?"

_And what are we supposed to do all day? He's not exactly Force-sensitive, he can't meditate, no matter how badly he needs to. He can't read either, and he's too active to sit around and watch holo-vids. And I'm too injured to run around with him. _

"…they actually brought up my suitcase, and no one took anything from it! I kind of wish someone had taken this shirt, though. It's _really_ ugly..."

_How long is he going to be here? And what if they can't stabilize Naboo? What happens to Anakin then?_

"...Your kitchen is _so big_!…"

_Does he blame me for his mom's death? I mean, is it going to be a problem? He seems ok now, but when this excitement wears off, he's going to crash hard. _

"…I've seen something like this before! Do you mind if I take it apart?"

The threat of destruction was enough to jolt Obi-Wan back to the present. His eyes widened as they followed Anakin's outstretched finger to the HoloNet receiver. He frowned.

"No! You are not taking that apart."

Anakin huffed at him, offended. "I can put it back together. I did build a hyperspace generator, ya know."

"Yes, I know you built a generator. I was _there_. And yes, I _know_ you can put it back together. But what I _don't_ know is how long that'll take you. And I don't know about you, but I was planning on watching a holo-vid in the near future," Obi-Wan paused, out of breath as he climbed out of the comfortable spot on his couch. "I'm going to shower before my arm seizes completely. Feel free to poke around or grab something to eat from the kitchen—_just don't pull apart the HoloNet box_."

Anakin scowled, but didn't respond, already distracted by something else. Obi-Wan shook his head and made his retreat. After days in stasis, bacta, and surgery the young man was more than ready rinse off the sterile smell of medicine.

* * *

**AN**: And now that both boys are awake and in the same place, next week/next update will be our dear boys bonding a bit before everything goes to hell again. :D

* * *

_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_ (this means YOU, my beloved lurkers!)


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: HAPPY GROUNDHOG DAY!**

Several people inquired as to whether or not anyone knows Anakin can use the Force. Up through chapter 6, he's interacted with a total of three Jedi: Obi-Wan doesn't know. Qui-Gon and the Master who met Anakin at the gate know, but they don't care. Anakin's too old to train and the Force didn't tell Qui-Gon that he was the Chosen One. To them, Anakin is an unfortunate Force-sensitive that is abnormally strong, but was found far too late to be trained.

Also, I am calling shenanigans on the hyperdrive times I managed to dig up online. Therefore, for the purposes of this story (and because I can) I'm making up my own hyperdrive times. So, yes, I know they are wrong. And I don't care. :D

* * *

"_**'Safe!  
Now let the night be dark for all of me.  
Let the night be too dark for me to see  
Into the future. Let what will be, be.'" **_

_**-Robert Frost**_

* * *

**Chapter 7 Settling In**

Obi-Wan overslept his first morning back in the Jinn/Kenobi apartment. Well, not really overslept, not by his standards anyway. But years as Qui-Gon Jinn's student had made getting up early a habit, and almost seven was his master's version of _sleeping late_.

Besides, now that he was out of the med-center, he had plans to _meditate_. Rolling out of bed, he tried to remember the last time he had, but he couldn't remember clearly. He certainly hadn't done it properly since before Naboo, and he desperately needed it now. He peeked into the living room, where Anakin was still asleep on the couch, before popping into the bathroom to get ready for the morning.

Afterwards, the Jedi stepped onto the balcony. Situated on the east side of the Temple, the balcony was deep in the shade, hidden from the dawn-light. Obi-Wan dropped a seat cushion from one of the chairs to the ground before sitting down on it.

Breathing out, Obi-Wan sank into the Force, intending to deal with the rise tide of _stuff_ crowding is brain and his attention. Stuff he could no longer ignore with Anakin's constant presence. Did he make the right choice offering Anakin and Ms. Skywalker passage off-planet? How did he fail to beat the Zabrak? Why did he decide to attack a speeding bike with his 'sabre instead of using the Force? What if he hadn't wrenched his shoulder at the start of the battle? What if they had left the Skywalker's ten minutes earlier? Could he have won the fight? Avoided it? Saved Ms. Skywalker?

The Light swelled around him. A weight fell from Obi-Wan's spirit as he settled into its cool warmth. He relaxed, letting it slough off the rough edges his center had collected. His metaphysical self tingled as the Force scoured off some of the lighter scratches and dings. He had craved this peace. The Jedi floated for a moment, content to let the Force show him what it would. It danced around him gleefully, guiding it towards what it wanted him to see, reminding him faintly of Master Qui-Gon at his most smug. Intrigued, Obi-Wan followed and looked where the Force pointed.

His gaze landed on Anakin's Force presence, still fast asleep on the couch. He had become familiar with it on Tatooine—bright and distracting, loud, full of layers and contradictions, sparking with ambition and crowded with compassion and love, currently weighed down with intense grief. Obi-Wan would've been blind to miss it. But this morning, seeing Anakin through the lens of the Force instead of through his own expectations, he saw something different.

_Anakin is Force sensitive._

And not just slightly, the child practically _glowed_, even in sleep. The Force urged Obi-Wan to look closer. Anakin's aura was unusual…Obi-Wan frowned as he studied it. With most people, the Force pooled around them in eddies and swirls, or they were containers that filled and overflowed with the Force. Anakin was neither. The Force wasn't _in_ him or _next_ to him, it was a part of him, literally _knit_ into who he was. The effect was staggering, like a superbly embroidered tapestry or a breathtaking symphony, every bit was woven together seamlessly.

The proud part of Obi-Wan was irked that he hadn't noticed this earlier.

The practical side pointed out that he wouldn't have known what to look for if he Force hadn't shown him. It was too _impossible_.

The scholar in him wondered why Anakin was so different.

The worrier wondered what it _meant_. He tried to find out, deliberately using his affinity for the Unifying aspect of the Force to see what he could glean of Anakin's placement in the fabric of the Force. But instead of the feelings and impressions he was usually granted (vague and unhelpful as they were), Anakin's future was entirely cloaked in shadow.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

The interruption jarred Obi-Wan's concentration. The Force danced away from his reach, laughing, leaving Obi-Wan with a tension headache and no answers. Obi-Wan looked up to see Anakin standing framed in the doorway, wrapped in one of the blankets from his bed. His hair was tousled and his eyes were blurry with sleep. Obi-Wan frowned.

"I'm meditating." _Was meditating_, he amended.

Anakin popped down across from him, loosely mirroring his stance. "What's meditating? Can I do it too?"

The world spun slightly and Obi-Wan clambered for the internal control to match his external confidence. Being forced out of meditation too early always left him spinning.

But as he looked at Anakin, sorrow, or maybe regret, stole over Obi-Wan. The eager child in front of him was far too old to be trained, despite the quality of his sensitivity, despite his sheer potential. Even more, he was too proud, too fickle to be trained now, mystery future aside. Anakin was the kind of person who would be better off not having any training at all than having a smattering of it—and at his age, a smattering is all he was likely to get.

By an accident of birth, the most promising Force-sensitive in generations would never be a Jedi.

But he squashed it all down. "How 'bout some breakfast instead?" the Jedi asked.

Just as well Anakin was unaware of his potential. Just as well he was going to finish growing up in anonymity on a no-name, peaceful planet like Naboo. He'd be safe there at least.

* * *

"Anakin, just pick a channel."

"I thought you didn't care what I watched? You said you would be reading!"

"I am reading. Or trying to. But you keep asking questions and changing channels. It's distracting. Just pick something and watch it!"

"But there are so many of them!"

"I know! That's why I gave you a list to check. I told you some of the good—"

"They're _boring_, Obi-Wan!"

"You didn't leave them on long enough to know whether they're worth watching!"

"How would _you_ know? I thought you were reading!"

"Anakin—"

But Anakin had changed the channel again. A show about fashion and style appeared, hosted by an overly painted female and her well-coiffed male counterpart. Both Obi-Wan and Anakin crinkled their noses.

"I temporarily take that back-you can change this one too," Obi-Wan said.

But Anakin was a contrary creature. "No. I like this show."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Really, Anakin?"

"Yes, I do! I—" he glanced at the screen for inspiration. "I—of course I do! It's—oh, look! It's the Queen!"

Indeed, it seemed that the show was giving the Naboo royalty a nine out of ten on their weekly fashion recap. There was no mention of the politics behind their appearance on Coruscant, just that they were better dressed than the Chandrilian delegation from the week before.

"And the handmaidens! Look! Can you see Padme? Which one is she? I can't tell; they all have their hoods on. Why do they do that, anyway? Their hoods look kinda silly. Is it a girl thing? Is Padme at Naboo yet?" he paused expectantly.

Obi-Wan blinked. Mentally, he reviewed everything Anakin had just said, trying to figure out which part Anakin had actually wanted answered.

"No, they won't be there yet. It's more than a week's hyperdrive journey from Coruscant to Naboo and they only left two days ago."

"But how do we know when they get there?"

"When a week has passed."

Anakin shook his head and sent him a no-duh-look, but he continued, undeterred.

"What are they going to do when they get there?"

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to shift. _I am supposed to be there_. He was supposed to be with his master, facing whatever was on Naboo together. The fact that it was his fault he'd been left behind chafed and a distant sense of personal failure tweaked at him. Absently, he rubbed at his chest where his ribs were still sore.

"I don't know, Anakin." _But it's not going to end well._

* * *

"Bant, Anakin. Anakin, Bant," Obi-Wan gestured from one to the other. "Anakin, Bant has been my best friend since we both were in the crèche. Now, she's training to be a healer."

Anakin frowned and leaned towards Obi-Wan. "Your best friend is a _girl_?" he whispered.

Obi-Wan barely held back a snort. Bant almost giggled, but didn't stifle her cry of outrage, "You mean you didn't tell him about me?"

Obi-Wan held his arms out in surrender. "Of course I did!" But he couldn't stop his smile, which was probably why she thwacked him as hard as she did on the bicep. He winced in (only slightly) exaggerated pain.

"No, you didn't," she accused with injured dignity.

"We were building an impossibly complicated ship part!" he protested loudly.

"Don't be smug about it!" _Thwak_.

"Ouch! And then I was unconscious for nearly a week!" Bant had managed to hit him in exactly the same place both times.

Bant shook her head in despair, though her face was split with a grin. "And you've been awake five days since! All these excuses—do any of them explain why neither of you are ready for the swimming lessons that _you_ asked for?"

* * *

"Anakin, this idiot here is—"

The man swept in, hand stretched out in greeting. "Garen Muln," he interrupted with an engaging smile. "Best friend to the ugly mug over there."

Anakin shook the man's hand, but glanced up at Obi-Wan in confusion. "I thought Bant was your best friend?"

Garen took offense and left Obi-Wan a bruised bicep in response. Obi-Wan didn't mind though—_both_ of Garen's arms ended up black and blue.

* * *

Obi-Wan was exhausted. Physical therapy was keeping him busy, but it was Anakin that was running him ragged. To be fair, the feeding and care of the youngling was easy enough. Anakin ate what was in front of him, brushed his teeth the vim of someone who had been told to do so since childhood, and even went to bed when asked (though Obi-Wan wasn't really expecting that Force-sent blessing to last much longer). He could also be a lot of fun, happily tagging along while Obi-Wan gave him a tour of the Temple or staying up watching holovids and playing video games. But Anakin's emotions, which had been tiring enough on Tatooine, had reached a whole new level of stressful.

The reasons were obvious. If suddenly fleeing the only life he had ever known—terrible though it was—and suddenly thrust into a completely different _universe_ wasn't enough, he was also dealing with the death of his mother. His emotions were on hyperdrive: he'd flash from happy to pensive to depressed to raging sometimes within the span of a conversation. Sometimes, he'd phase out almost completely, lost in thoughts he couldn't—or wouldn't—talk about.

Since teaching Anakin to release his emotions to the Force was out—as that would require revealing his Force-sensitivity—Obi-Wan found himself struggling not to vent his frustrations at the child.

_Thank the Force caring for Anakin is not a long term project. This last week has been hard enough for the both of us_. Obi-Wan thought._ Note to self, don't take a padawan any time soon_.

His eyes closed the moment his head hit the pillow.

His eyes snapped open the moment the door slid open. There were few people whose mere presence would not immediately wake Obi-Wan Kenobi up—Anakin Skywalker was not among them.

"Anakin? Anakin, what are you doing awake?"

The glow of the Coruscanti nightlife backlit Anakin, framing him in the open doorway. Even in the dim light he looked worried, shoulders hunched and hands twisted in front of him. Obi-Wan shifted, sitting up fully and rubbing his eyes. He glanced at the clock.

1:03

_At least I got some sleep. Even if it doesn't feel like it_.

The Force swirled around the room, a mix of exhaustion, fear, concern, anger, confusion, the emotions too tangled up to know which ones came from Anakin and which from himself.

"Anakin?"

The answer was a flying tackle to his midriff. The force of it knocked the wind out of him; like a constrictor, the arms kept the air out. Gasping slightly and feeling like a fish out of water, Obi-Wan's mind flew into overdrive, _I'm not cut out for this, I knew this was bad idea, I'm not cut out for this! I'm going to kill Master for leaving me with this assignment!_

Calmly though, he asked, "Anakin? What is it?"

Anakin was fevered—the heat from his bony body seeped through Obi-Wan's pajamas—but he was shivering. Still, he wasn't crying which Obi-Wan hoped was a plus. He honestly wasn't sure.

"Anakin, you need to tell me what's wrong," he urged. _Good thing I'm in control of my emotions and there wasn't a tinge of panic in my voice, there_. Obi-Wan knew it was a bad sign when he got sarcastic with himself. He tugged at his braid.

Muffled by Obi-Wan's shirt, the answer was mostly incoherent.

"A nightmare?" the man confirmed.

Anakin nodded.

Obi-Wan hazarded a guess as to its content. "You're mom?"

Anakin shrugged under Obi-Wan's arm, but didn't respond verbally.

"The Dark Jedi?"

Anakin burrowed deeper, telling Obi-Wan what he needed to know. Flickers of anger sparked through the Force again, though they were weighted down with pain. Obi-Wan reached into the Force, evening it out, snuffing out the sparks, while his hand smoothed out the knots twisted into Anakin's back. It worked; slowly the child relaxed, melting against Obi-Wan's side.

Obi-Wan didn't relax; he still felt uncomfortable. Someone was wedged well within his personal space bubble and had done so without consulting him first. The Jedi was not a naturally tactile person, but for some reason, Obi-Wan was letting Anakin stay and wasn't quietly ushering him back to the couch. In fact, Obi-Wan found himself trying to get comfortable, settling against the headboard, and carefully shifting Anakin along with him.

_Hopefully he won't get a crick in his neck now_, he thought, as he budged the child into a more comfortable position.

Not that Obi-Wan wanted to encourage Anakin's obvious attachment. But there was no sense in waking the child up after just getting him back to sleep. That would be _rude_. And it would make Anakin cranky all morning, and that wasn't fun. Really, dealing with a cranky Anakin would be _far_ more uncomfortable than just staying up all night acting as a human pillow.

Obi-Wan didn't manage to fall back asleep (though his left arm did, smooshed as it was between Anakin's head and the wall), but Anakin didn't have any more nightmares, so Obi-Wan figured it was about an even trade.

* * *

"Whatchya doin'?"

The mousy blond head popped up suddenly. One moment the space at Obi-Wan's elbow was empty, the next it was inhabited by a curious child. A curious child that had made it his life's mission this morning to startle Obi-Wan.

But the Jedi was well aware of Anakin's nefarious plot. Completely unperturbed, he responded without looking up from his book, "Studying."

"Why? I thought you didn't have classes during this rotation. That's what you told me." Somehow, Anakin managed to sound accusing.

"I don't have classes right now," Obi-Wan agreed. "But I've been thinking about learning a secondary sabre form and this one seems like a challenge."

Anakin peered over Obi-Wan's elbow. "It's a bunch of pictures. How's that a _challenge_," he asked obnoxiously.

Obi-Wan tugged on his braid, reminding himself of the importance of patience. "These are the foundation katas for the form. It's called Soresu."

"Soresu?"

Obi-Wan nodded and returned his attention to the book hoping Anakin would suddenly learn how to take a hint.

He didn't. "That's a weird word. Soresu. Soresoo. Soh-reh-soo. Soar-eh-soo…."

Obi-Wan tried to ignore it. He really did.

" …Sora-soo. Soar-EH-soo. SOAR-ay-soo. Soh-raaaa-sooo. Soh-RE-sOOOOOO…."

But Anakin had an uncanny knack for _poking_ at things. He could unravel in seconds the patience that the Padawan had spent his entire apprenticeship cultivating.

"…So-RAH-soooooo—"

"Anakin! Stop, please."

Anakin grinned. Undeterred by the Obi-Wan version of an outburst, he continued his questioning. "But I thought you already knew how to fight with a lightsabre. Why do you have to learn this?"

"True wisdom is knowing you know nothing," Obi-Wan quoted. "Besides, I don't _have_ to learn a secondary form. For now, I'm just doing research."

"For fun?" Anakin asked with a deep frown.

Obi-Wan nodded, "For now."

"Sounds _boring_."

The Jedi almost felt offended. "You think learning a lightsabre form is boring?!" He raised a challenging eyebrow. "You were pretty interested in it when I showed you the salles a few days ago."

"Yeah, because they were _doing_ something. You're just poking through pictures."

Obi-Wan snorted. "When the healers give me the all clear, I promise, I'll be learning this in the salles. Until then, I do what I can."

* * *

—_he was running, feet pounding across the burning rocks and loose sand, blistering them red and white from the heat—as fast as he ran, he couldn't get away—the man-in-black with the red face and yellow eyes was right there, reaching out and grabbing him and wrapping him in his black cloak, shining red with blood—_

"An—"

—_Mom was there, shouting for him_—

"—kin!"

—_it was all his fault, he did this, all the red, the death, all this fault, all his fault, and now Padme was there, her belly torn open, bleeding red on the yellow sands and Mom's face, dark and accusing, angry that her own son had FAILED—_

"Anakin!"

Hands on his shoulders, grounding him. Feet flat on the floor, a presence in his face, controlled panic swirling through the air.

It was enough to jolt Anakin back to the _here and now_—here and now, where he sat on the armchair, forgotten droid-guts on his lap, and Obi-Wan kneeling in front of him with worry on his face and concern in his eyes, his hands gripping Anakin's upper arms, grounding him.

"Anakin! Are you back?"

Locking eyes with Obi-Wan, Anakin nodded carefully, biting his lip. Bracingly, Obi-Wan ran his hands up and down Anakin's arms. The friction tingled, but it helped. Anakin felt cold inside.

"It happened again?"

Obi-Wan called the dreams flashbacks. But was it really a flashback when Anakin saw things that hadn't actually happened? Whatever they were though, they'd happened a lot on the trip to Coruscant and at while he was staying with Padme, but once he'd come to the Temple, they'd only happened twice—and neither time it had been this bad.

Actually, it had _never_ been this bad.

Obi-Wan had been there at the beginning the other two times, but today he had left Anakin all alone in the apartment 'cause of his stupid _physical therapy_. He'd been _gone_ when it had started. _This_ was Obi-Wan's fault.

_Why does he need stupid physical therapy, anyway? Like his shoulder's even hurt anymore! It's working perfectly fine now!_

Obi-Wan hadn't let him come with him to the appointment. He'd wanted to leave Anakin behind! He said Bant or Garen could come and hang out with Anakin while he was gone, but Anakin wasn't a baby. He didn't need Obi-Wan's friends to come and _babysit_ him while Obi-Wan was gone; he could take care of himself!

_Except, what if Obi-Wan thinks this happened because I can't take care of myself? What if he's disappointed in me and thinks I'm a baby?_

Abruptly, he pushed away from Obi-Wan, leaning into the back of the armchair, pulling away from the supporting hands. He didn't want Obi-Wan thinking he was weak.

Even if he secretly was.

Ashamed of that weakness, Anakin fixed his eyes on the wiring in his lap. He didn't see the gleam of hurt in Obi-Wan's eyes.

He heard Obi-Wan clear his throat. Glancing up through his bangs, he watched the man stand up, favoring his injured shoulder, before returning his gaze to the tangled wires. He completely missed the hand the ghosted over his hair, the hand that _almost_ ruffled it.

"Do you want hot chocolate?"

Anakin shook his head.

"Alright. I'm going to make some for myself." Obi-Wan moved away from Anakin. He paused before turning the corner into the small kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

_Don't go away!_ Anakin wanted to shout. _You went away before, and see what happened! It came back and it was worse! Don't leave me too!_

But he didn't.

Obi-Wan disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

By day nine of his guest's sojourn on the couch, Obi-Wan had gained enough confidence in his Anakin-minding skills that he was willing to brave the wilds of Coruscant with his companion.

"What's the rule?" he asked, marching Anakin down the hallway.

Through the Force, Obi-Wan felt ripples of Anakin's annoyance and frustration. There was a huff and then, "Don't wander off."

"Why not?"

"Because Coruscant is not Tatooine and just because I knew what I was doing there, doesn't mean I'm safe here," he paused with a sigh. "_Happy_?"

"Enthused," Obi-Wan replied with an aggravating grin and a handclap to Anakin's nearest shoulder.

Anakin wriggled out of the grip impatiently—only to move back within reach a moment later.

In an arrogant tone, he commented, "Coruscant doesn't look dangerous to _me_."

Obi-Wan replied airly, "Of course, not Anakin. Speeders flying about at hundreds of kph, kilometers above the crowded surface of a planet aren't dangerous at all. And of course, the lower levels of the city are even nicer than the upper ones you've seen—you can get some pretty high quality death sticks down there. It's really easy to navigate, too. The various street levels and catwalks between buildings are perfectly logical."

Anakin made a face at Obi-Wan, who calmly ignored it, "It's a lovely city really."

They turned a corner and found themselves opposite at a large, overhead door. Obi-Wan punched in a keycode on the pad next to it and the door slid up, revealing a wide, duracrete room filled with row upon row of speeders in all colors, shapes, and sizes.

"Wizard!"

Anakin dashed off ahead, leaving Obi-Wan by the door to deal with tedious things like signing out the transport and finding out which one he had been assigned. Peripherally, he kept an eye on Anakin who magically honed in on the nicest speeder in the Jedi garage. The kid was circling it like a predator, eyeing it up and down like a true connoisseur.

His excitement was catching, rolling out through the Force and drowning out all echoes of his previous petulancy. And no wonder: it was a top of the line speeder, shiny and bright, molded for speed, edged with chrome, and clearly built to attract powerful and moneyed attention. Obi-Wan admired it for himself as he joined his friend.

"Can we take this one?" Anakin asked eagerly, all but jumping up and down. His hand hovered reverently over the hood of the transport. Obi-Wan could only imagine the levels of self-control the nine year old was bringing to bear to keep himself from ripping into the engine and discovering how it worked for himself.

Obi-Wan snorted. "I wish! This model is reserved for special occasions, mostly undercover missions. Since this is not a mission, or vehicle will be somewhat more…mundane."

"Mundane?"

"Boring."

"Oh."

"Cheer up, Anakin! I'm a Padawan—I assure you, the vehicle we have been assigned will be at least as unique as this one."

The Jedi lead him away from the shiny new car, past empty parking spots and vehicles ranging from shiny and new to worn to very, _very_ worn.

Obi-Wan stopped in front of a very, very, _very_ worn transport. It didn't have an identifiable color.

Anakin frowned, unimpressed. "I think I saw one of these on Tatooine once."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think this model was _that_ old. Still," he added, patting the fender, "it's well-maintained and will get us where we want to go. Go, get in!" Obi-Wan tilted his head towards the far side of the car.

"Can I drive?" Anakin asked eagerly.

"No! You can't drive." Obi-Wan dismissively gestured to the passenger side of the speeder.

Anakin stood his ground. "I wanna drive. I know how to drive."

"I have no doubt you do. But you can't drive on Coruscant. It's illegal."

"But I bet you I can drive better than most of the poodoo drivers out there right now! I can race a pod on the Boonta Classic circuit! I can drive on some stupid city planet!"

The man stood his ground against the growing storm. "Anakin, it's _illegal_." To Obi-Wan that explained everything.

"So?" To Anakin, it didn't make a difference.

"You can't drive because you aren't old enough. Most nine year olds can't operate a speeder."

"But I can!"

"Anakin, that's not the point—"

"Yes it is! Why won't you let me do this—"

"Anakin, it's not about me letting you, it's about—"

"You're just being mean! You just like everyone back on Tatooine, telling me what I can and can't do, and—"

Obi-Wan tugged on his Padawan braid, searching for patience. No sign of it; the virtue had long since fled.

"Anakin." His voice cut through Anakin's growing tirade. "You can either accept that I'm driving and climb in the passenger seat, or we can both stay here for the day." Ultimatum delivered.

Anakin glared, a dark, heated thing, backed by a sharp blur of anger in through the Force. Without a word, he stalked around the speeder, jerked it open, climbed in, and slammed the door shut. Obi-Wan took a moment to collect himself before following suit—minus the tantrum, of course.

They pulled out of the garage and eased into traffic. The cab stayed silent.

_Patience, Obi-Wan_. "Where do you want to go?"

Anakin shrugged, refusing to look in Obi-Wan's direction. The building they were skirting stopped and their lane of traffic rose a level. The skyline opened up in front of them, the Senate Rotunda visible despite the haze.

"Oooo! I know! Can we go visit Senator Palpatine?"

_What?_ "What did you say?"

"Senator Palpatine! I met him while I was staying with Padme and the Queen and stuff, and he was really nice. He said I could come and say hi whenever I wanted to because I helped save his planet 'cause I built the hyperspace generator! Ooo, can we?"

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan paused. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not!" Anakin asked indignantly.

_Because I don't feel like dealing with the Senate building and all its security today_. _Because politicians are very good at using children as props. Because he is a candidate for the office of Supreme Chancellor and visiting him would be taken as endorsement from the Jedi. Because I find it weird that he singled you out while you were at the embassy, even though his planet is in crisis. Because he's a politician and I don't like politicians._

But he didn't say any of that. It wasn't what Anakin wanted to hear. So he gave the child what he wanted, countering Anakin's proposal with one of his own.

"Because I thought we could go see the Museum of Aviation and Aeronautics!"

Anakin's eyes widened comically. "Aeronautics? Like, as in _starships_?"

"Aeronautics as in starships," he affirmed.

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled: crisis averted.

_Good thing distraction works just as well on children as it does on diplomats_.

* * *

Anakin eyed the water hesitantly.

"You…you want me to go in that?" he asked the young Jedi standing next to him.

Obi-Wan laughed from behind him, "Yes. You'll have to get in if you want to keep learning how to swim!"

"But, it seems like such a waste!" The pool was huge—bigger than Watto's shop—and Anakin couldn't comprehend that the water wasn't for drinking. Even after more than a week in the Temple, seeing all of the pools and water gardens, it totally still freaked Anakin out. But really, this pool was much larger than the one they had used last time and it _scared_ Anakin. Not that he would ever admit that, but still. It was kind of scary.

"Anakin, you had no problem with the smaller pool we used the other day. And I assure you, the water is not wasted. Not here on Coruscant. There is no shortage of water in this city, well, not any more at least. There used to be major problems with the planet's water supply, because there are so many people, which means they need to drink water and get rid of their sewage. And it got even worse once the towers began to hit the two hundred and fiftieth floor. You see, transporting water vertically is a huge drain on power and—"

"Obi-Wan, I don't think he cares too much about the history of the city's water," Bant piped up from where she was floating along in the pool. "And, I somehow doubt that you are going to convince him to get into the water by discussing sewage."

Obi-Wan did not deign to respond to Bant's comment, but he did stop talking. Anakin just giggled, glancing back between the two friends.

Bant kept talking, encouraged by Anakin's laughter. "Come on in, Anakin. There's no sewage in this water, just like there wasn't at the other one!"

Anakin walked to the edge of the pool with far more confidence that he felt. Obi-Wan walked next to him, lending support. He was about to dip his toes into the water, repressing the part of him that objected to the idea of putting _feet_ in water, when he felt it.

He felt Obi-Wan _freeze_.

It wasn't a normal freeze, like when a person just stops moving. It was the kind that locked up all your muscles and stopped you from breathing and made your stomach and your heart and your head hurt.

Anakin knew exactly what that kind of freeze felt like, and he still felt an echo of it more than two weeks later.

"Obi-Wan?" he asked, grabbing onto the young man's hand and tugging at it. Despite the weight on his arm, Obi-Wan's hand reached up of its own accord and pressed up hard against his chest, the hand digging deep into his skin. Anakin tugged, trying to bring it back down.

"Bant!" Anakin shouted, his voice quivering.

Anakin stared hard up at the taller human's bleached face, vaguely aware of the splashing behind him as Bant frantically exited the pool. There was no reaction from Obi-Wan; his eyes looked like they were far away. A dripping Bant appeared behind Anakin, dribbling water onto his head.

Suddenly, it felt like there was a big GASP from somewhere and the tension was released from Obi-Wan in a big woosh, like a popped balloon, and it barreled into Anakin, almost knocking him back into the Mon Calamari. Obi-Wan stumbled slightly. He instinctively reached out to catch himself on Anakin's shoulder. The man's weight was almost enough to knock Anakin over, but Anakin stood firm and just managed to help keep the other man upright. It was hard though, the look on Obi-Wan's face bringing back all of the agony Anakin was only just kind of separating himself from.

"Obi?" Bant asked, in a quivery, whispery voice.

Over Anakin's head, Obi-Wan's eyes latched onto Bant's. Anakin heard her sharp gasp, before she reached out for Obi-Wan's free hand. The man jerked back, shaking his head in her direction. He released Anakin's shoulder, and stepped slowly backwards, like he was in a daze. Anakin thought that Obi-Wan looked like he'd been smashed and splattered across duracrete, like he'd just fallen from a million story building.

"Obi-Wan," Bant said, trying to catch his attention with her bracing tone.

He ignored her again, and knelt on one knee in front of Anakin. He grasped the child's shoulder and looked him carefully in the eye. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, gathering all his scattered pieces and stacking them back together enough so that he could talk without crying.

"Anakin. I want you to return to the apartment and wait there for me. I'll…I'll be back when I can."

Shocked by the force that Obi-Wan had put into such a simple request, Anakin simply nodded, utterly confused and suddenly terrified. _What could have happened to do that to Obi-Wan?_ he wondered. Panic twirled in his stomach. _Don't leave me alone! Tell me what's going on! What happened? Don't leave me alone!_

"Obi-Wan!" Bant cried over Anakin's head.

The man stood up and looked at Bant. His face cracked slightly.

"He's dead, Bant. I…I just felt it. He's dead."

Anakin's eyes darted from one Jedi to the other in confusion, but neither was looking at him. The sheer _panic-pain-terror_ pouring off of Obi-Wan, combined with the _fear-worry_ from Bant was doubly scary because they were always so calm, so collected, so happy—

"Obi!" Bant reached both of her arms towards the man, but he stepped away from her, out of reach. Bant let her arms drop down to her sides. "Obi, where are you going?" she asked as Obi-Wan walked towards the door. Anakin bit his lip as he watched Obi-Wan straining to hold himself together.

"I am going to find Master Yoda." And then he disappeared through the doorway and out into the hallway.

* * *

_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_ (Obi-Wan says you should.)


	9. Chapter 8

_**.**_

* * *

_**Westley**__**: Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something.**_

* * *

**Chapter 8 Aftermath**

It took another twelve hours for the official news to reach the Temple. Bant was the one who told Anakin.

Obi-Wan had disappeared hours ago.

"…when they reached the hanger, they were met by the same Dark Zabrak that attacked you and Obi-Wan on Tatooine."

Anakin shuddered, staring down at his hands twisting together in his lap. He had had nightmares about that creature every night for the past two weeks, ever since it had killed his mother. Nightmares where it killed him. And nightmares where he killed it.

And now it had hurt Obi-Wan the same way it had hurt him and it made Anakin want to freeze up again, like he did right after his mom. Freeze up and stay that way. Somehow it didn't hurt so bad when you froze up like that.

"Master Qui-Gon followed the Dark Jedi," Bant continued, staring out the window behind Anakin, "and that was the last time the Naboo saw either of them. From the security tapes, it seems that the Zabrak led Master Qui-Gon towards the city's core reactor, but then they left camera range. No one knows what happened after that. Although the Naboo searched the room, they found no sign of either body, though they did find evidence of a long and vicious fight."

"If they never found his body, then how do they know Qui-Gon is dead?" Anakin demanded. _Why was Obi-Wan and everyone so convinced that the big man was dead?_

Bant's eyes closed. "Force-sensitives form bonds through the Force to people that they interact closely with. It happens between close friends for example. And between Master and Padawan. These bonds, Anakin, you must understand," her voice caught, "these bonds only break if one of the two dies. That's why we know that he's dead, Anakin. You saw Obi-Wan yesterday, when we meant to go swimming."

Anakin nodded.

"That's what happens when a bond breaks. And the bond between Obi-Wan and his master was stronger than most. Obi-Wan _knows_."

Anakin nodded, still staring down at his knees. Tears gathered in his eyes and dribbled onto his pants, staining them with his pain. Another wave of the sadness that had stalked him for two weeks struck with a vengeance. He sniffled and hunched in to himself, trying to brace himself for the onslaught. He felt Bant reach her arm over his shoulders. He relaxed back into her arm, grateful for the touch.

She smelled like tears.

* * *

Obi-Wan reached the door to his quarters, eager to reach the safety and privacy of his rooms.

Before palming it open, he instinctively scanned the apartment with the Force out of long habit, checking to see if there was anyone inside. He staggered backwards when he felt his master's lion-like Force signature pervading the rooms. Before thought, hope burst in his chest and he keyed open the door, half expecting the man to be sitting on the couch watching some animal documentary on the vidscreen.

But then his brain caught up to his heart and he remembered that Qui-Gon was _dead_ and that all he was sensing were traces of the Jedi Master 's Force-signature that had steeped into the apartment after decades of use. The apartment as empty.

That knowledge struck his stomach like a steel-toed boot and Obi-Wan had to lean against the doorjamb to catch his breath. Reaching into the Force, he collected himself enough to cross the room, past the kitchenette and the living room with the empty couch, past the half-finished droid and mess of tools Anakin had left scattered on the table, past the hallway with the bedrooms, and out to the tiny balcony. He'd had a long day of well-meaning well-wishers—his friends, Qui-Gon's friends—all wanting to make sure that he was coping, asking if he needed anything, dropping by with condolences and casseroles, well meaning words and their own pain _bleeding_ into the Force.

Unable to handle any more of it, Obi-Wan swept open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony, grateful for the dull, background roar of the traffic. He closed the privacy curtains behind him, shutting out the Temple.

Obi-Wan tried to take a deep, relaxing breath, but, instead of being steady and calming, it took on a gasping hysterical edge. Desperate to ground himself, he turned his focus to the mix-matched patio furniture.

He used the Force to rotate the small loveseat so that it faced the lingering sunset and he dragged the small side table so that he could rest his feet on it. The remaining chair was exiled to the corner of the balcony, though first Obi-Wan snagged a pillow from it that one of Qui-Gon's more artistic friends had stuffed years ago.

Settling into a corner of the couch, flopping his feet up onto the coffee table, hugging the pillow to his chest, Obi-Wan settled in to watch the sunset.

It was the slow lingering kind, with an array of colors only possible with the mix of pollutants unique to Coruscant. The sunset glinted off buildings and was refracted all around Obi-Wan, surrounding him in a warm glow that did nothing to comfort him. Instead, the peace of the sunset merely exacerbated the tearing feeling going on inside Obi-Wan's chest.

He knew that even as a Jedi, it was perfectly acceptable to feel pain upon the death of a close friend, a mentor, a master. And he knew that the trauma of the bond's destruction was only making the feelings of grief sharper and more consuming….but there were darker emotions that boiled at the knowledge that his master's killer still lived, and these, _these_ were not the feelings of a Jedi. The righteous indignation he felt at the murder of his master was woven tightly with strong cords of anger and failure and a desire for vengeance that almost frightened Obi-Wan with their intensity.

Worse, he didn't have the peace of mind to sort through those purely negative and dangerous emotions to deal with them. And so they stayed, stirring up his understandable feelings of guilt and pain, both fresh and old, and increasing his grave sense of failure. He had failed to protect his master and now he was failing to deal with that failure.

_Master would be disappointed_. Despite the heat of his feelings, the thought left him feeling cold, inside and out.

The steaming ball of conflicted emotions, some rational, some irrational, pounded away inside of Obi-Wan, grinding at his head and his heart. Around him, he could feel the Force responding to the violence of his emotions—some parts of it whipped into swirls and eddies, other parts attempting to soothe his aching soul.

The hard pain writhing at the back of his head didn't help, the epicenter of the vicious migraine he'd been enduring…_since_. Apparently this kind of pain was a common symptom of a ripped bond. The meds that the Healer had pushed into his hand with an understanding face and a comforting pat on the arm were supposed to kick in soon.

Not that they would do much for the soul-drowning guilt he felt at not being there when his master died, but that was another matter.

"Obi-Wan?"

The Jedi's attention had been focused on both his roiling emotions and the steady sunset; he hadn't heard the glass door behind him open. Anakin's voice startled him, but years of field work had taught him not to show it.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement of Anakin's presence, but he didn't turn around.

Anakin took the half-hearted acknowledgement as permission to stay. Distantly, Obi-Wan sensed Anakin try to walk around the edge of the couch so he could sit on it as well, but the way the couch was situated meant that there was not enough room to do so. Anakin's response to this was to scramble over the back of the seat. Because of Anakin's height, there was a long, precarious moment when he teetered on the top of the back rest that had Obi-Wan preparing to send out the Force to cushion the inevitable fall. Fortunately, Anakin just managed to fall forward into the safety of the cushions, without any external aid. Obi-Wan felt his mouth almost twitch in amusement at the child's actions, though he didn't say anything. Anakin stayed silent as well, merely arranging himself on the couch next to Obi-Wan.

Unlike Obi-Wan's sprawling position, he pulled himself up into as small a ball as a nine year old child could be, with his knees under his nose and his arms wrapped tightly around his shins. He curled up in the corner created by Obi-Wan and the backrest, without quite resting against either.

Obi-Wan's had neither the strength nor the heart to send Anakin away, despite his need for solitude. And, despite the initial intrusion, he found that he did not mind the boy's silent and still presence. Even his blinding Force-presence felt somehow soothing. Eventually, Obi-Wan's attention drifted back to the fading light, the pinks and yellows of early sunset merging with the reds and purples of an increasingly later one.

"I'm sorry," Anakin said said, suddenly breaking the silence.

It didn't sound like the kind of apology most people gave someone in mourning. It wasn't a customary acknowledgement of pain. There was a kind of heavy, knowingness there that weighed down on Obi-Wan's insides.

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan inquired, ignoring the way his voice crackled with emotion and disuse.

"That you feel it too," Anakin said in a small voice, before burying his head in his self-made ball.

Obi-Wan felt like he'd been slammed in the gut again. Despite having spent days trying to help Anakin deal with Shmi's sudden murder, Obi-Wan had completely forgotten about the boy's pain in the face of his own agony.

Not having the slightest idea what to say in the face of Anakin's renewed pain, on top of his fresh one, he pulled one arm away from his pillow and wrapped it around Anakin, pulling the child into his side. Anakin curled tightly into Obi-Wan's embrace.

Grief and a numbing sense of failure built up anew in Obi-Wan, welling up from his toes and pooling in his stomach and swirling through his head. Distantly, he felt his side grow wet as Anakin's tears soaked his tunic. He never noticed the ones that dribbled down his own face.

* * *

The purple shading faded into blue and green as the last glint of sunlight was swallowed by the glow of Coruscant's bursting nightlife. Rush hour traffic at the end of one work day picked back up as the other half of the population woke up and began their odyssey to work. The brown-orange of the Coruscanti night sky glowed brightly overhead. The post-sunset glow that turned the whole world grey-blue was swallowed up by the lights of billions of beings.

The chaos and the rush was somehow soothing to Obi-Wan, easing his migraine (though not the grief) to the point where he remembered that he probably ought to feed Anakin something for dinner_. And, myself as well_, he added with the twist of an eyebrow. He hadn't had much of an appetite since… since it happened.

Unwilling to leave the bubble of equilibrium that he and Anakin had finally built for themselves, Obi-Wan stretched out with the Force into the apartment's kitchenette. Determinedly ignoring Qui-Gon's strong Force signature, he located the stock of casseroles that various friends and acquaintances had kindly left him.

The idea was that upon the death of someone close, the Jedi in question would need time to rediscover their balance and their place within the Force. Taking care of one's body was necessary to that end. However, grieving people rarely had the energy to cook a proper meal, and even fewer had the inclination to eat in the crowded cafeteria under the microscope of a Temple's worth of Jedi. Hence the plethora of casseroles that now lined the cooling unit and counter tops and covered the kitchen table.

Qui-Gon had had a lot of friends.

Obi-Wan had a lot of casseroles.

Obi-Wan found a dish on the kitchen table that the Force assured him was promising. He gathered two forks from the drying rack and stabbed them into the dish. Then, with gentle care, he levitated the entirety through the door that Anakin had neglected to close, over the top of his head, and into his hands.

The baking pan smelled good—it looked like an enchilada casserole. With extra cheese. With a nod of thanks to the Force for its choice (it swirled around him like a hug before returning to its normal, near-intangible nature), he put a hand on Anakin's head and gently shook the boy out of his haze.

"Anakin?"

The boy's head popped up and he looked blearily at the man.

"Food?" Obi-Wan added, waving the dish in Anakin's direction.

"What is it?" Anakin asked, hesitantly, his nose crinkled up in a frown of confusion.

"It is an enchilada casserole."

Anakin looked at him blankly.

After almost two weeks taking care of Anakin, the Jedi had gotten used to introducing him to new things, new foods in particular. It always left Obi-Wan with a mixed sense of joy for having the chance to show Anakin something new and regret that Anakin had been deprived of so much.

"You'll like it," he assured. "Here."

He handed Anakin a fork. The former slave dug the fork into the cheesy pile and scooped up a heaping helping of the food. Obi-Wan watched, vaguely impressed as Anakin wedged the whole bite into his mouth at once.

The nine year old's face light up with glee.

Half-swallowing, Anakin opened his mouth and muttered something incomprehensible around the half-masticated food. Apparently, it was a well practiced skill as no food came flying out of his full mouth.

"Swallow!" Obi-Wan chided, with a mental cringe.

Anakin swallowed again, but repeated his previous words completely unrepentant: "This is _good_!"

Nudging the child's shoulder with his elbow, Obi-Wan almost snorted before grabbing his own fork and taking a far more conservative bite than his younger counterpart had. At that point, he discovered, that maybe he did have an appetite after all.

Together, the two males demolished about three-quarters of the dish in relative silence. When they were done, Obi-Wan levitated the ruins onto the wicker chair in the corner, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that scolded him for using the Force so frivolously.

He relaxed back, hoping to begin digesting some of his emotional overload along with his slightly overlarge dinner. Next to him, Anakin stretched out as well, though in contrast to Obi-Wan's stillness, Anakin was starting to get twitchy after sitting still for so long.

Obi-Wan tracked it absently. It started with Anakin's left foot, which began a silent, staccato dance against the armrest. Then, Obi-Wan watched as it jumped to the child's fingers, which began twittering around in his lap and pulling at his clothing. Then Anakin's head started to move as he began to study the small balcony and the plants that Qui-Gon had doggedly grown there, despite the bad sunlight and the planet's pollution. Anakin's body followed his line of sight as his restless nature overpowered his earlier wave of grief. He pushed himself off the couch and stretched out his stiffness before stepping towards the balcony edge.

"Obi-Wan?" His voice was small and he faced away from Obi-Wan, looking out over the city.

"Mmm?"

"Bant, yesterday, she told me what happened with…with Mr. Qui-Gon. But she said she didn't know anything else. About what happened. On Naboo, I mean. Do you…is Padme safe?"

Obi-Wan tugged at his braid. "I don't know about Padme. All I know is what Master Yoda told me," Obi-Wan paused to swallow down the lump in his throat. Anakin turned around to face him, resting his weight on one foot and bopping his left heel off the balcony railing behind him.

The Padawan continued. "The queen sent the message. They have the Viceroy of the Trade Federation in custody. They used him as leverage to disable the droid control ship, but it's still in orbit," he paused again, running a hand through his hair. "Master Yoda said the Council dispatched a Jedi team from a nearby sector to help maintain the status quo and a couple of Knights were dispatched from the Temple to meet them."

"Status quo?"

"They'll make sure that the droids aren't reactivated and that the Viceroy doesn't escape," he trailed off, thinking. _They'll also search for the Dark Jedi that murdered Master. The Darksider hasn't been seen since the day the Naboo retook Theed. What's he doing? Is he in league with the Trade Federation? Is he their assassin? If he was after the Queen, why hasn't he killed her and rescued the Viceroy? If the Queen isn't the target, who is? Or, did Master kill him? Did they kill each other? But then, where did the bodies go? Is there a third player here that killed them both? One that took their bodies? It doesn't make any sense! _

There were too many possibilities and not nearly enough data available to come to any realistic conclusions. It left Obi-Wan feeling more unsettled than ever.

It didn't take knowledge of the Unifying Force to know that there was something larger in play here, but the _whys_ and _wherefores_ were utterly elusive, lost in the same shadow that so carefully occluded Anakin's future.

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_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_ (this means YOU, my beloved lurkers!)


	10. Chapter 9

**AN: Sorry about the delay! And sorry for any confusion-I uploaded the wrong version of this chapter, at first!  
**

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**"_Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light."  
_Helen Keller**

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**Chapter 9 The Force  
**

It had been three days since the night on the balcony, and Obi-Wan hadn't slept since.

_Well, that's not true. Probably four hours that first night. Two the next…another three and a half the following…and with naps during the day I've gotten a good...twelve hours. Maybe. _He grimaced. Optimism was hard to maintain after being driven awake by incoherent nightmares in the early hours of the night. Again.

He'd tried regular meditations during the day, but his equilibrium was shot and with Anakin around he couldn't devote the time required to regain that equilibrium. Shorter meditation efforts were derailed by his own pain and guilt.

He rolled over and stared at the clock, watching the minutes come to a standstill. He had always been prone to insomnia, but this was ridiculous. The minutes crawled by, impossibly slow. The clock stared in the darkness, mocking him. Low level panic, fueled by exhaustion driven claustrophobia, twined itself around his heart.

Fed up with himself, Obi-Wan did what he had done the last three nights; he got up. The Jedi called his lightsabre to his hand, immediately relaxing at the touch of cold metal, and feeling suddenly eager now that his decision had been made. He paused at the door to make sure that Anakin was really asleep on the couch. Satisfied, he opened the door and slipped out of the apartment to the salles.

The nights were when everything collapsed in—his master's death, his failures, Anakin, the future, the darkness, all of it, squeezing like a vice. He'd taken to sneaking out to practice with his 'sabre, throwing himself into learning the new form he had been studying. It had become his escape, the only comfort he could find when the night pressed in.

The gym was dark, but the motion-sensitive lighting flickered on when he stepped into the room. Obi-Wan opted not to turn the main lights on, preferring the half-dark. It was easier to concentrate. He took a moment to limber up, aware that he hadn't recovered from either his wounds or his recent inactivity.

He'd checked out the beginner's Form III holocron from the Archives over a week ago, though he hadn't had a chance to do more than poke through it. Since his master's death, though, it had become a lifeline. He had memorized the initial Soresu katas that first night. Last night had been devoted to practicing the First Soresu Kata. Tonight was to the Second. He sank into the opening stance, part of him relishing the strain it up on his still-healing shoulder.

He called on the Force. The pain dissipated. It swirled around him and he dove in, leaving himself behind. The effects were heady. The exhaustion, the pain, the worry, the guilt, the bitterness, the _failure_ all disappeared under the weight Force. It didn't feel like the Force usually felt, with personality and a quirky sense of humor. This side of the Force was full of raw, sustaining energy, demanding and unrelenting. Its comfort was in _forgetfulness_, not _acceptance_. And for now, forgetfulness was all he wanted. Losing himself to the impersonal power, he distantly felt himself run the kata over and over again, but it was only an echo of physical sensation.

There was no passage of time, no _anything_ until a patient, persistent nudge from the Force broke through the void. The sudden feeling unbalanced Obi-Wan, bringing him out of the meditation and disrupting his kata. The forgetfulness disappeared. The sudden reemergence in the world of the physical was jarring, but fortunately he only had a sharp moment of emotional pain before exhaustion conveniently blotted it out. His legs threatened to go on strike, shaking precariously, and the hand that scrubbed the sweat from his forehead was cold and clammy.

He glanced at the clock and scowled at the time.

_People will be getting up soon. _The need for privacy was stronger than his need for oblivion. With a longing glance around the room, he deactivated his lightsabre and made a shaky exit from the room.

Walking was difficult, but Obi-Wan was stubborn and he doggedly made his way back towards his apartment. More impressively, he didn't fall over. It took all of his concentration to keep moving forward after his self-imposed beating, leaving no room to return to the haunting thoughts and emotions that had driven him from bed hours before.

Unfortunately, those thoughts came flooding back as he approached the Jinn/Kenobi apartment. Averting his eyes from the plaque, he steeled himself for the wash of his master's Force signature that would sweep him when he opened the door.

_It's a like a smell. Spend enough time with it and you could forget it was there at all. Reintroduce an old scent though, and it's all you can think about. _

Except, when the door opened, the rush in the Force wasn't _lion-strong-big_, it was _small-scared-lonely_. Something like panic danced in Obi-Wan's gut. The Force urged him inside, but gave no indication of what had happened.

"Anakin?" he called in a low voice, stepping through the entryway. There was no answer.

A survey of the living room told him Anakin wasn't on the couch—the blankets sat abandoned and cold on the floor.

_Bathroom door's open, so he's not in there…my door is open. It wasn't open when I left_….

A couple of strides brought him to the doorway. He leaned on the door jamb and peered into the semi-dark where the source of the Force disturbance was curled up on top of the bedclothes. The parts of Anakin's face Obi-Wan could see above his blanket was anxious, lined even in sleep. It was like a low cloud of misery had wrapped itself around him. Obi-Wan curled a calming tendril of the Force around him, sending him into a deeper sleep and brushing away the miasma clotting the Force. His face eased, but Obi-Wan felt even worse as he put the pieces together and realized what had happened.

Anakin had nightmares. From what Obi-Wan could tell, they were fairly common but Anakin seemed determined to deal with them on his own and Obi-Wan respected his privacy enough to let him. But twice the nightmares had been bad enough for Anakin to abandon his defiant independence. Twice he had gone to Obi-Wan, terrified into silence and clingy.

_Now it's happened three times.  
_

There was bitter taste in his mouth. Anakin had gone to him for help and _he hadn't been there_. Guilt burbled in his stomach. It felt too much like his other recent failure. He'd been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to be where he needed to be, and a friend had paid the price.

The Padawan pushed away from the wall and his thoughts. He snatched a clean set of clothing from the small dresser and headed to the shower.

_Thank the Force there's no lack of hot water here_. It eased some of the cramps in his legs and shoulder, and though it did nothing for his exhaustion, the emotional overload faded. The strong caf he brewed afterwards sharpened his mind enough to begin breakfast.

It wasn't long before Anakin appeared, grouchy and tousle-haired. Neither of them were morning people and so breakfast the silent breakfast was not unusual. The thoughtful look on Anakin's face was, however, and Obi-Wan had an uncomfortable sense that he was being studied. Being a specimen was preferable to being interrogated about his disappearance the night before, so Obi-Wan didn't comment. As the morning passed, Anakin made no mention of his nightmare and Obi-Wan didn't press.

_He'll come to me if he truly needs help. _He tried to ignore the fact that he hadn't been there when Anakin had come to him for help.

The rest of the day was nice, like the last three had been. It wasn't good—it was far too soon for that—but it was pleasant. It was full without being busy; there were friends, but they didn't crowd; there was Anakin, but he wasn't demanding (today he was being especially quiet, almost thoughtful); there was the HoloNet, but it helped him nap. There was no hiding from his problems during the day, but then, they didn't seem as horrible during the day as they did in the darkest reaches of the night.

But time marched inexorably forward and night approached. Too soon for Obi-Wan's comfort, it was dinner time. He blinked and suddenly Anakin was getting ready for bed. He stalled it as much as he could, but he knew a day of cranky Anakin would wreak havoc on his own ability to pretend to function and he couldn't afford that. Bowing to the inevitable, he sent Anakin to bed and retreated to the loneliness of his room. He stood blankly in the center of the room for a long moment.

_What was I doing?_ He tugged on his braid, trying to clear his caffeine deprived mind. _Oh, yeah! Getting ready for bed. That's right._ He reached for his pajamas and then paused_. Do I really need to change? I'm only going to go back to the salles tonight. Be practical: it's not like you're going to be able to sleep anyway._ The Force swirled, scolding, and Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it. _Being practical means getting sleep_, he reminded himself sternly. _Or trying to_.

Tenaciously, he forced himself to get ready for bed and to climb in. He refused to give up on sleep without a fight, even if it just meant lying listlessly in bed or tossing around in unmemorable nightmares. With a flick of the Force, he shut off the lights and stared into the empty room.

The tingling Force was his only warning. Obi-Wan had just enough time to sit up before the door burst open and Anakin made an abrupt entrance.

"Obi-Wan!"

The Jedi blinked at the volume. "What? Anakin, is everything all right?"

With his hands flapping awkwardly in front of him in a parody of his usual exuberance, Anakin screwed his face up into an echo of fear. "I had a nightmare!"

_Anakin goes silent when he has nightmares. He doesn't get loud like this._

"It was super scary!"

Obi-Wan glanced at the clock. _It's been twenty minutes. He couldn't have fallen asleep, much less had a nightmare. He's an awful liar. _

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Anakin missed the skepticism and took the response as invitation. He stepped up to the bed. "It was awful!" He peered soulfully up into Obi-Wan's eyes.

_So, clearly, Anakin is making up this nightmare. Why? He's not prone to lying. But he was quiet all day…he's been planning this_, Obi-Wan realized. _But why? _

"Awful?" he parroted skeptically.

"Uhuh!" Anakin clambered up onto his bed. Obi-Wan was too awestruck by the child's audacity to say anything. "_Awful_!"

Again, guilt struck, along with realization. _Anakin knows, or he's guessed, that I've been leaving the apartment at night. And he doesn't like it._

Anakin was still rambling on about his nightmare while blithely confiscating a good portion of Obi-Wan's bed and more than his share of the blanket.

_Of course he doesn't like it! He knows I'm not doing well—that's why he was staring at me all day__—_it's probably why he was talking to Bant for so long this afternoon—and he knows I left last night. He knows I'm not sleeping. He doesn't like that I wasn't there to help him last night. He's trying to fix both problems. Anakin may be oblivious, but he isn't stupid.

Obi-Wan glanced longingly at his lightsabre on the dresser. If he caved to Anakin, he wouldn't be able to practice. He'd be forced to face the night and its nightmares. He wouldn't be able to forget, even for a little while.

But it was _Anakin_. Obi-Wan couldn't knowingly abandon Anakin, not when it was something he could so easily fix. Not when he completely understood why Anakin wanted his company so badly. Not when he had failed him the night before. Not when he'd been forgiven for that failure. Not when Anakin's Force-presence was radiating that warm contentment into his side and the night didn't seem so heavy.

So Obi-Wan didn't leave, and he didn't make Anakin leave, though he really wanted to. At first.

He wasn't awake to feel Anakin's unadulterated joy at the success of his Great Master Plan.

He wasn't awake to feel the Force swirl in pleasure at his choice.

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_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_ (thanks!)


	11. Chapter 10

**_Count Rugen: Ah. Are you coming down into the pit? Westley's got his _**

**_strength back. I'm starting him on the machine tonight._**

**Chapter 10 Attachment**

Masters Yoda and Windu walked the third highest tier in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, each lost in their own thoughts. It was not their usual haunt (they usually preferred less trafficked parts of the Temple) but today both planned to observe a pair that _did_ frequent the Room.

Laughter below signaled that their subjects had arrived on schedule.

Though hidden from the casual glance, Mace and Yoda had a clear line of sight to the clearing where two young Humans had just appeared, the younger one pulling the older along by the wrist. They watched for a long moment as the two conversed, Kenobi apparently trying to convince his widely gesticulating companion of something. The Force flashed in concert with Skywalker's movements, emphasizing them. Obi-Wan responded calmly, clearly amused by his companion.

Mace's eyes darted from the boys to his fellow Jedi master in time to see Yoda's eyes narrow.

"You have noticed it as well, then," he said, a statement not a question.

The Force quivered between Obi-Wan and Skywalker as their semi-argument grew more heated.

"How could I not? Old I am, stupid I am _not_," Yoda said in a grumpy huff, beating his stick the ground. "And old he is." He shook his head sadly. "Too old for training. Too old, too _emotional_." He shuddered.

Below, Obi-Wan collapsed onto the ground, despite Skywalker's protestations. Kenobi settled himself against a tree, ignoring the way Anakin was tugging hopelessly at his arm.

Mace tilted his head in acknowledgment. Skywalker was far too old for any kind of proper training, and his clear emotional instability made it an impossibility. It was a pity though—his raw power would have been a great asset for the Jedi if it hadn't already been too late to teach young Skywalker how to harness it. Yet it was the will of the Force that he hadn't been found in time, and, therefore, the will of the Force that he would not be trained.

"Worse, clouded is Skywalker's future," Yoda continued. "His darkness now clouds even the future of young Obi-Wan! Mmmm! Allow that to continue we cannot. Separate the two, we must." He thwapped his stick on the ground for emphasis, shaking his head ominously.

That was grave news. Even from his earliest years in the crèche, Obi-Wan had been full of Light. To hear of that being tainted was something he could not, _would not_ allow. More than that, Qui-Gon had been his friend. If it was within Mace's power, the man's padawan would not Fall.

The Force blazed in sudden laughter. Below, Skywalker waved up into the tree Kenobi was leaning against. A frown crossed Obi-Wan's face and he crossed his arms. After much back and forth, the frown melted in the face of Skywalker's plea. Kenobi shook his head and gestured at a different tree. Skywalker's face lit up at the acquiescence while Obi-Wan levered himself off the ground. With a small dose of the Force, Obi-Wan hefted Skywalker into the tree. Trailing amusement, Obi-Wan followed his companion into their chosen climbing tree.

"The two have become very attached," Mace cautioned, nodding at the two boys' antics. "In light of recent events, separating them will be difficult." The Force twirled in agreement. They had been inseparable since Anakin's arrival, more so since Qui-Gon's death.

_It will be a painful, though necessary, separation._

"There lies the problem, does it not?" the green Jedi sighed. "Relying on the Force, he is not, in his grief. Relying on a child instead. Knows better than that, he does!" But the Force around him swirled in sorrow rather than anger.

The silence rested between the two Jedi. They followed the boys' movements in the tree as Obi-Wan taught Skywalker how to climb.

_Still, for all his reliance on Skywalker, he is doing much better than he was a few weeks ago. Regardless of the cause, it is good to know Obi-Wan is healing._

"How far is he from his Trials?" Mace asked aloud. _If he needs a master, I will take him. He's a good student. And growing to be a good man. Qui-Gon was right to be proud of him. _

Yoda shrugged. "Depends, that does, on his recovery. Attachment prone, he is," he said, gesturing at towards the pair below. It was unclear if he was referring to Kenobi, Skywalker, or both. "If allow the death of his master to drag him into fear and hate, then very far indeed. If allow, Obi-Wan does, the death to _strengthen_ him, and to teach him to _let go_ of his attachments, if moves forward he does, then passed his Trials he already has."

"And until we find out? What are we going to do with him until he makes his choice?"

"Wait, we will. Patience we must have, young Master Windu."

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Anakin was nervous. Although he had been in the Jedi Temple for a whole month, he hadn't been to the Jedi High Council Room before. Obi-Wan said it was only for _Important Business_ and _Not-for-Tours_, so really, he should have been excited about being up there. But he wasn't; he was _nervous_. Most of it was because everyone in the room—except Obi-Wan, of course—was a _Master_. Anakin didn't care that that word was different for the Jedi, no matter how many times Padme, Obi-Wan, or any of Obi-Wan's friends explained the term, it still made him uncomfortable. The fact remained: there were _Masters_ in the _Republic_. _Masters_ in the one part of the galaxy that was supposed to be _safe_.

He'd met one or two of them in person, when they had come to talk to Obi-Wan soon after Mr. Qui-Gon had died. Although they weren't like the old masters on Tatooine, they were stiff and distant and weren't very nice. They looked at Anakin like his mom did—_used to_—when he was doing something wrong. And that's why he was nervous, standing in a big, shiny room, surrounded by them. They all kept staring through him, and he hated it! It made him feel small and stupid. If it wasn't for Obi-Wan's solid presence right next to him, he'd've run right out the room to get away from it all. His fingers brushed the edge of Obi-Wan's sleeve, gaining confidence from the small contact.

But it wasn't quite enough, 'cause even worse than the _staring_ was the _stillness_. Everyone was just sitting (or standing) there, perfectly still-even Obi-Wan. Anakin hated being still and he hated the staring, and even though Obi-Wan had warned him to be polite and quiet, he couldn't help but play with the cuffs of his tunic and stare out the windows at the cityscape, anything to escape the stillness himself. And _finally_, just when he thought he was going to _explode_ 'cause the quiet was so loud, the big guy (Mace something or other) spoke.

"Padawan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker. The Jedi we dispatched to Naboo have completed their investigation and are on their way back. They report that the planet has been secured and that the Viceroy is in their custody," he nodded in Anakin's direction, though he kept his eyes on Obi-Wan. "There is no sign of the Dark Jedi. They brought word from the Queen of Naboo: she says her planet is safe enough for Anakin to come, per the original agreement."

Anakin's stomach dropped down to the floor. He felt his eyes bug out. He'd forgotten that he was supposed to go to Naboo with Padme. He also completely forgot that Obi-Wan had warned him to be quiet.

"But I don't want to go to Naboo! I want to stay here with Obi-Wan!"

The Council shifted, though not a single one of them moved. Anakin's hands shook, a mix of fear and anger running through him. The air around him crackled.

"I want to stay with Obi-Wan!" he reiterated, trying to sound like a grownup (he wasn't sure how well it was working, though, because his palms had gone sweaty and his mouth was dry and something was stuck in his throat, catching at his words).

"Your stay was always meant to be temporary," intoned a male humanoid. "It is not our fault that you have grown…attached to your caretaker. You have been here for a month; it is now time for you to move forward with your life."

Anakin opened his mouth to object, but another Jedi cut him off, "Although you have been a welcome guest in our home, the Temple is meant for Jedi." Even Anakin could hear the rebuke in the quiet words.

He looked up to Obi-Wan, desperate for a friend, but Obi-Wan seemed to be the only person in the room _not_ looking at Anakin. The young Jedi's face was hard, cold, and pale as he stared out over the heads of the masters. His jaw was clenched, giving his face a gaunt, forbidding look.

Anakin stepped away from Obi-Wan, realizing that his _friend_ wasn't going to defend him. That knowledge burned cold in Anakin's gut. He wanted to throw up.

He was going to be left behind again, and this time, it wasn't going to be with promises to see him later, or even with apologies and hugs like with the Naboo. It wasn't going to be like Mom either, permanent but completely against her will.

"Padawan Kenobi will accompany you to your destination…" Words faded like the hum of traffic below in the city.

Obi-Wan was letting this happen to him without a word. Utterly betrayed, Anakin stopped paying attention to the people around him. The world kind of whited out around him and the same kinds of things he'd felt right when his mom died came rushing back, though not quite as sharp.

He refused to answer anyone's questions, and when it was time to leave, he didn't say goodbye to anyone in the room. It was uncomfortable feeling them stare in disapproval, and worse knowing his mom wouldn't have liked it, but he didn't _care_. Anakin tried to stomp back to the apartment, but he couldn't remember how to get back there from the top spire. He decided to drag his feet instead, keeping behind Obi-Wan and making faces at the people they passed. It kind of helped, because he had to concentrate so hard on not moving too fast that he almost forgot how much his stomach hurt.

Dinner that night was a silent affair. Utensils clinked loudly against the ceramic plates, echoing in the silence. The sound hurt Anakin's ears, but it was better than trying to speak. If he said anything, he'd start crying and he wouldn't do that in front of stupid Obi-Wan. He wasn't a _baby_. Besides, how could you possibly explain that it wasn't the fact that he had to leave that hurt the most, it was the fact that Obi-Wan didn't care that he was going?

His eyes darted up from his plate to the man across the table from him. Obi-Wan's face was still that same cold color it was in the Council chamber. It hadn't changed at all. He ate like a machine, taking small polite bites, and staring blankly at some invisible point on the table.

_Fine then_, Anakin thought, shoving his half-eaten plate of food across the table and standing up fast enough to make his chair crash in the wall behind him. He stormed into the other room and climbed into his fortress of blankets. It wasn't early enough to go to bed yet, but he didn't want to have anything to do with stupid Obi-Wan who was sending him away and who wasn't even sorry about it.

"Anakin?" The voice sounded like it was out of practice talking.

Anakin refused to answer. The silence stretched on. He watched Obi-Wan open and close his mouth a few times, like a fish in one of the Temple aquariums.

"I..." he paused to cough. "I just wanted to remind you to pack everything up. The transport is scheduled to leave at ten o'clock tomorrow morning, but we have to get up early. As we will be someone's guests we need to get to the landing pad on time." The Jedi's voice was hard and brisk. It sounded more like the Masters in the Council room than the Obi-Wan Anakin knew.

Anakin didn't look up, but he could feel Obi-Wan staring at him. There was another long pause, then a sigh, and Obi-Wan shuffled off. The sound of washing dishes clanked loudly through the otherwise silent apartment. Quietly, so that his frie—so that _Obi-Wan_ couldn't hear it over the sound of the running water, he began to cry. He'd though Obi-Wan cared.

Apparently not.

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**_Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review."_** (I really hope ya'll have seen/read _Princess Bride_, because if you haven't this set-the-scene-quote didn't make any sense at all.)


	12. Chapter 11

_Sorry for the delay in getting this up! It was a surprisingly tricky chapter to write :D_

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**_"Let those who love us love us. And those who do not love us, _**

_**let God turn their ankles so we may know them by their limping." –**_**Irish Blessing**

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**Chapter 11 Farewell to the Temple**

The HoloNet had lit up when the Chancellor announced that he was taking a trip to his war-torn home planet. Most agreed that it was too soon after his election, that he should wait until things settled in the capital. Sidious knew better—Palpatine's trip to Naboo was a well calculated political move, designed to solidify support from those who had been swept up in the original sympathy vote that had propelled him to office.

But, as with everything Sidious did, it had more than one benefit.

In this case, he would be cleaning up after the Jedi and their apparent contempt for common sense. They were shipping their greatest asset off to the edge of the galaxy to rot instead of taking him in like they were supposed to. Why were they willing to overlook such potential? Such incandescent power? Even with foresight wrenched from the Force, sometimes the Jedi made unexpected choices.

Sidious was not a man given to overestimating his people—enemy or pawn—but such disregard for Anakin Skywalker's power was utterly inexplicable. The illogic had him reviewing his plans, rethinking the possibilities of raising the Chosen One by his own hand instead of imbedding him in the Temple. Sidious touched his chin with a finger, weighing his options in the well-hidden deeps of the Force.

His influence over the Chosen One would run deeper, manipulating the child on a daily basis and using his desperate need for _acceptance_ and _love_ to craft him into a weapon for his specific purposes. The child was young and ill-educated—with time, it would be easy enough.

And it was wonderfully tempting, images of Skywalker's tortured face blossoming to the front of his mind, Sith lightning crackling in his hair, agony twisting his face into a pained rictus, his screams vibrating the air. A lesser man would've shivered at the sensual pleasure the sight of such pain afforded him, but Sidious maintained his Palpatine exterior, staying calmly seated, looking over the reports spread across the table. The image was delightful, but he had not reached the Chancellery by indulging himself. To take Skywalker for his own too early would leave Palpatine's identity too vulnerable, the Force was clear on that. Ensconced as he was in high office, he now lacked the time to devote to Skywalker's full-time training, and none of his subordinates had the finesse required to navigate the Chosen One's neediness long term.

So, with his practical nature, Sidious abandoned the idea, replacing it with the one he had foreseen in the Force—bringing the Jedi down from the inside. The pain of _that_ betrayal would leave such a scar in the Force that would outlast even his Force enhanced lifetime. It would take a little work to keep the boy under his influence, but he would be excellently trained (the Jedi had perfected THAT much at least). A few well placed, well timed words should keep such a rebellious youth from falling completely under their spell and would keep him within the Sith Lord's mighty orbit.

The Force shifted and Palpatine looked out viewport of his private transport, watching an air-taxi gently dock on the edge of the landing pad. Two figures clambered out of the vehicle, both Light in the Force, both with bold and distinct signatures that cast shadows on the cityscape behind them.

Anakin's was louder, a clarion bell ringing out into the void, bold and shining against the Darkness of the Force. It was bright and harsh, screaming with anger, though an anger far too naive for Sidious' purposes. Although the confusion and hurt in it was fuel for the Dark, there was too much untwisted _love_ involved. It would take time and skill to cultivate his love into obsession, to make sure that this anger became rage. After all, love was so easy to manipulate, affection and attachment so easy to twist and pervert. _There is time enough to do what needs be done._

Kenobi's was more muted—a softer chant, a steady melody. Where the pleasure of Anakin's pain came from its single mindedness, Kenobi's came from its depth and breadth, its quiet complexity. Guilt. Pain. Self-flagellation. Sorrow. Skywalker's untrained strength was blinding and woven so tightly into his very being that he _was_ that power, a tapestry woven from the Force itself. It would be glorious to draw such power to his own purposes. But Kenobi…_his_ corruption would be a work of art and a delicious seduction. A supernova was easy to channel, all flash and brilliance. Principles and strength were so much more challenging.

He watched them quietly as they maneuvered their baggage out of the taxi, reading them and figuring out how best to deal with them during the trip.

_Oh, this is too easy_—_they aren't even talking!_ The emotional vulnerability that dripped off them was almost too much. The Force sang around the two, binding them together, despite whatever momentary tiff they were apparently caught up in. To gain control of them, he would need to shape their relationship to his own purposes. This trip provided the perfect opportunity—their relationship was new and they weren't talking to each other. He would need to keep them apart for the moment so he could work on them individually, to plant the right seeds and to encourage the right thoughts. It wouldn't been difficult to make sure they delayed their reconciliation—both were naturally proud. A few well-placed words here and there would keep them from talking easily enough, allowing him to deal exactly the hand he needed to win the long game.

A smile played across Sidious' face, pulling his lips back in a grotesque parody of joy. He was eager for the chance this journey afforded, a chance not simply to court the Chosen One, but also the Chosen One's Force-chosen teacher.

He went out to meet them with his best grandfatherly smile. It was convenient that he had to visit Naboo at this time, wasn't it?

* * *

Anakin gratefully let the door swish shut behind him, happy to be away from stupid Obi-Wan. The man was so stuffy and stiff and...and _stupid_ and he'd barely said a word to Anakin all morning except to kick him off the couch, to ask if he was packed, and later to say it was time to go.

Anakin kicked moodily at the wall before slumping down on the bed. He planned to spend the first part of his trip sulking there, but sitting still made it too easy for his anger to melt into fear. Instead, he set about exploring his room, jumping around on the comfy cot, playing with the various drawers and appliances that were set into the wall, and turning the desk into a couch and back into a desk.

But then he ran out of things to explore in his room and decided to explore the rest of the ship. The carpet squished under his feet, leaving footprints as he stepped through the door and into the hallway.

The corridor had the same deep carpeting, leading both aft and stern. In one direction, he could hear the quiet whirr of the bridge. He almost went that direction, before he remembered how annoyed the pilots on Padme's ship had gotten when he bothered them too much. So he turned left, heading down the length of the ship.

There wasn't much to see: a few fancy looking pictures and some locked doors. The port-to-starboard corridor that bisected the ship just ran from the main airlock to a large storage room and there was nothing interesting in there. The next door was open. He poked his head in and found an empty conference room with a long table running down the center. It was framed with a viewport showcasing the blur of hyperspace. The pictures on the long wall opposite looked fancy, but didn't hold Anakin's interest.

With a shrug, he continued his exploration. The galley was busy, the dining hall looked just as boring as the conference room, and there wasn't much in the secondary storage closet low enough for him to see (he hated being short!). Deciding that this level was boring, he headed towards the small staircase at the end of the corridor, hoping to find something more interesting below. He didn't even notice the last door until he walked past it and it swished open.

It was an office.

"Hello?"

No answer. He peered in. The light inside the room had the same soft yellow color as late sunrise on Tatooine—the point where the warmth was welcome, chasing away the chill of the night, but well before the heat of the day. There were no windows, but Anakin guessed that was mostly because all the walls were covered in books. Real books. Not holo-books, not recordings, but real, bound, flimsy books. At the center of the room was a low, dark brown desk (was that real wood?) with two comfortable looking chairs sprawled in front of it and a high backed chair behind.

The room was empty, and after a look down the corridor at his back, so was the hallway. Emboldened, he crept into the room. He ran a hand across the back of one of the armchairs, surprised at the feel of the fabric. He wandered the room, touching things and looking at them, entranced by how everything felt so expensive and so comfortable at the same time.

The greatest novelty in the room was the books. He'd never seen real ones before and the concept intrigued him. His fingers caressed the bindings as his eyes struggled to decipher the words on them. He could make out a few….

"You enjoy reading, then?"

Anakin jumped and whirled around, heart pounding.

The Chancellor loomed in the doorway. Anakin cursed the fact he hadn't noticed the man's approach, unused to the phenomenon of people being able to sneak up on him. He was angry at himself for getting caught. He was smarter than that!

The man stepped into the room and Anakin instinctively stepped back, unsure what the larger man's response was going to be at catching him sneaking. The Chancellor didn't seem to notice, settling himself into the armchair nearest the door.

"Those books are my part private collection. One of the benefits of public service—such treasures are easier to find." He gestured with a smile to the armchair opposite him. "Did any of those books catch your interest? You're welcome to borrow one."

Pretty confident now that the Chancellor wasn't angry at him for poking through his office, Anakin stepped around the desk to settle into the empty chair.

"I don't really like reading all that much. It's boring." That actually wasn't true. He wasn't a good enough reader yet to know if he liked it or not, though with Obi-Wan's help he was now a lot better at it than he'd been before. Still, he didn't want to admit weakness in front of someone he wanted to like him.

The man chuckled, "Fair enough. Though I doubt any of them would appeal to you much anyway."

Anakin shrugged.

"I am glad to see you here; I wanted to see how you were doing. I'll bet this whole affair has been a bit sudden for you," the Chancellor stated, concern filling his eyes. "Is there anything you want to know about Naboo?"

Anakin's smile melted, uncomfortable with the reminder that he was being shipped off _again_. He was tired of other people deciding what was going to happen to him.

_The Chancellor is the first person to even ask me about all of this_.

The Naboo had abandoned him at the Temple and now Obi-Wan and his precious Council were dumping him on Naboo. When the Naboo decided they didn't like him anymore, where would _they_ leave him? The rest of the galaxy was turning out to be _worse_ than Tatooine—at least when everyone bossed him around there he had his mom. Now, without her, he felt more lost and alone than ever. His mom hadn't wanted to abandon him. Obi-Wan _did_.

_What did I do wrong? Why does everyone keep leaving me?_

He shrugged at the Chancellor, worried that if he said something out loud he'd start blubbering like a big baby. He was tired of feeling scared all the time. Because it wasn't just fear for the future, it was all the hurt he'd felt right after his mom died, all rushing back, but in different ways.

The Chancellor settled back into his chair. "Naboo is a lovely little planet. Quiet. Peaceful. That's why I became a Senator, you know. So I could share that safety with rest of the galaxy. It's nothing like Coruscant of course. Then again, in all my travels, I've never found a planet quite like it."

"What's it like, then?" Maybe if the people there were all as nice as Padme, they wouldn't send him away. Maybe if it was so different than everywhere else, they'd like him.

"Naboo prefer the simple things in life. Although they use technology, they hold beauty in much higher regard. They are known for their architecture and art," Palpatine smiled. He kept talking about how peaceful they were, how they preferred to be left alone, how the Naboo rarely traveled, and how important family ties were.

As excited as Anakin was to see Padme, he wasn't sure how much he was going to like Naboo. Every word Palpatine spoke painted a dull picture, one where Anakin was sure he'd never be able to fit in. Something bitter and tight squeezed tighter in his chest.

* * *

Obi-Wan wasn't avoiding Anakin, _thank you very much_. He was meditating on attachment.

It was a topic that had kept him busy since he'd boarded the Chancellor's yacht. Attachment.

_Attachment leads to suffering_.

With the death of his master, those dangers had been thrust once more into his face, underscoring a tendency in himself that had always prevented him from being the best Jedi he could be. It was past time he confronted this issue. Why not face it now, when he had little else to do?

_Attachment leads to suffering_.

Anakin's pain was something that had surprised him. Not the hurt itself, but its duration. A child with his nature didn't seem capable of harboring anger for so long, but somehow he'd managed it, and sometimes, it was so _deafening_ Obi-Wan could feel it seeping through the bulkhead that separated their cabins. Obi-Wan had attempted an overture the morning they'd left the Temple, but Anakin had pointedly ignored him. The Chancellor, who had taken Anakin under his wing, had advised Obi-Wan to wait until the boy was ready to come to him, and since Obi-Wan had never been one to pry into other's emotions, he had taken the advice. He wasn't the pigheaded child's master and if Anakin wanted to throw a tantrum about going to Naboo, Obi-Wan wouldn't interfere.

Besides, what was he supposed to say? The Council was right: Anakin couldn't stay at the Temple (despite his sensitivity to the Force; despite his interest in the Jedi; despite the fact that Obi-Wan would've been honored to be the boy's master if no one else would take him).

The Council was right: it was far past time for Obi-Wan to let go. He hadn't let his Master go, hadn't accepted his emotions, hadn't released his attachment to the Force. He'd been too distracted and he'd used Anakin as a crutch (no matter how much it had felt like he was slowly healing, no matter how much Anakin had stopped him from hiding from his grief and had made him face it like a Jedi, no matter how much he'd helped by giving Obi-Wan a new purpose) for his own inadequacies.

The Council was right: he'd simply replaced one attachment for another instead of relying on the Force.

_Attachment leads to suffering_.

It had been an entire month. He should be at peace with his master's entrance into the Force. He should not be grieving like this, like Anakin still did for his mother. Just because Anakin was leaving didn't give him any excuse to fall apart like this.

So he was meditating.

_Attachment leads to suffering_.

It was a mantra he was well acquainted with and he would've thought it had been driven home with his Master's death. Apparently not—he'd gotten more attached since! _What is wrong with me?_

Irritated, he decided to take his master's well worn advice and approach his problem from a different angle. He stood, letting the blood flow back into his stiff legs. Taking care, he left his room, hoping that a turn about the ship would bring new clarity to his thoughts—or at least quiet them down. Idly, his feet carried him to the conference room down the corridor, the one with the wide sweeping window that lit the room with the floor to ceiling glow of hyperspace.

The Force drifted around him, the cords and patterns stretching out shifting and staying the same even as he watched them change. Threads snapped, lines bent, and colors changed, but there was nothing concrete to learn, nothing he hadn't seen in the Force a hundred times before. He was no closer to releasing his attachments either, and he felt too worn out to care as much as he should.

A pull shifted his attention outward, as the door behind him opened. Obi-Wan turned.

It was the ship's droid. "Jedi Kenobi? The Chancellor wonders if you would like to play another game of chess?"

"Now?" _I should keep meditating_.

"I believe so, sir. He was setting up the board in his office."

Something like displeasure nudged at the young man at the Chancellor's assumption he would jump to and come when called, but he ignored it. After all, with Anakin not talking to him (or him not talking to Anakin—or both of them avoiding each other) that didn't leave much in the way of company on the ship. The Chancellor was a keenly intelligent man and a master chess player. Obi-Wan enjoyed matching his wits against the politician, no matter how wary he was of the man underneath the genial mask.

Besides, one didn't offend the leader of the galaxy by refusing such a small thing. Even if he really should keep meditating.

The office was only a few doors down. The door was open, but he paused in the doorway to knock politely on the door jamb.

"Chancellor?"

The man looked up from whatever it was on his desk that had held his attention, face spreading into a grandfatherly smile.

"Padawan Kenobi! Do come in!" He gestured to the two arm chairs in front of the desk, small table and game board set carefully between them. "Settle down and I'll get you your drink."

However much the two disagreed on politics (and in the course of their previous games, Obi-Wan had come to realize that the two disagreed over most things), the Jedi couldn't argue with the man's hospitality. Palpatine was civility itself, and within moments, the Jedi had been bustled into a chair and had a very fine glass of scotch in hand.

Obi-Wan had dined with powerful beings, negotiated treaties with galaxy-wide implications, and had stared death in the face at numerous occasions. And yet none of those were anywhere near as surreal as sitting aboard the Chancellor's private yacht, sipping a civilized scotch, playing cutthroat chess.

Obi-Wan was good at chess. Not a master, but then he'd never had much time to hone his skills. The strategy was pretty instinctive and he'd always had a knack for reading his opponents, even without the Force. Most opponents. Not the Chancellor. The man's genuine, grandfatherly attitude belied a keen mind and a sharp intellect that was more than his match on the game board. It was their fourth game in as many days and Obi-Wan had yet to come close to winning, though he held his own.

Still, the mood was pleasant enough. Even though Obi-Wan's initial temper was anything but genial, the focus required by both the game and the quiet conversation were enough to take the edge off. The discussion wound, as it had during their previous games, as the two debated various topics amiably (only rarely finding themselves in agreement). It was refreshing to find someone who could make an argument and believe it without devolving into pathos. The game continued, the Chancellor systematically knocking out Obi-Wan's pieces, while Obi-Wan carefully fought to save each one.

Somehow, as Palpatine carefully maneuvered a rook across the board, the topic of the midterm Senate appointments came up.

"They will be filling in my own seat soon."

Obi-Wan nodded, distracted by his trapped knight.

"I wonder who they'll chose?" the quiet tone pulled Obi-Wan out of his study. "Considering the circumstances…" Palpatine leaned back into his chair, gazing introspectively into space.

"Chancellor?" he asked after a moment.

The man met Obi-Wan's gaze with a sad smile. "Well, my election wasn't exactly auspicious, was it? The people of Naboo are still deeply shaken up about the Invasion and its aftermath."

Invasion, assassins, a vote of no confidence, Dark Jedi, _dead_ Jedi—they boomed in the silence.

Chancellor Palpatine looked seriously at Obi-Wan, catching his gaze with all the earnestness a career politician could muster. "I have been meaning to thank you, thank you for all that you and your master did for my planet."

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably, resisted the temptation to hide behind a cough or another sip of scotch.

"We did only what was right, Chancellor." Condensation dripped down his glass and pooled on his fingers.

"But your Master did far more than that," he replied sympathetically, leaning forward over the chess game, almost knocking over his own king-piece. "Are you holding up?"

_That is private_, a small part of Obi-Wan growled, a private place where not even Bant or Garen or Anakin or _anyone_ was allowed to see. He wasn't going to open up in front of a stranger, much less a politician. Still, Obi-Wan was not one to let emotion cloud his actions, so he responded politely, "I am doing well enough. Thank you for your concern." He swirled his scotch around and took a long sip.

"I want you to know that we will find him, Padawan Kenobi. The creature who did this to my planet, to your master. We will find him," his tone was assuring. Confident and comforting. Vengeful. "I _will_ bring the creature who attacked Naboo and murdered Master Jinn to justice," he vowed.

Obi-Wan was not one to take a politician at his word, but the absolute earnestness in the grandfatherly human standing next to him was enough. Something bitter and tight in his chest relaxed.

* * *

_**Compliments? Questions? Concerns? Criticisms? Note them below and then click "Post Review."**_ (Palpatine has plans for galactic domination. To prevent this, click "Review.")

(Also, heads up: there's going to be a bit of a delay in getting the next chapter up. I want to update regularly, which means I need time to finish more than one chapter at a time. Sorry! Just wanted to give you warning. When I come back, it'll be with more regular updates, I promise!)


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